Control Freak
by Zooie
Summary: AU. When a crossschool tutoring assignment forces two boys together, idiosyncricies compound their simple relationship. 1x2
1. Chapter One

 SEQ CHAPTER \h \r 1AN: *sighs* Everything I write is so stereotypical. I should just clump it all together and call it an arc. The Downright Trite Arc, perhaps. Iterative Imagination. Environmentally Friendly 

Fiction. I recycle!

Disclaimer: yeah, yeah. You know the drill.                  

**Control Freak **

I know I'm good looking. You don't get the shit beat out of you on the streets on a regular basis for being ugly, not unless you're pretty fucking hideous. Enough people call you "faggot," "pretty boy," and "girlie" while they try to implode your solar plexus and you begin to suspect that you might be slightly better looking than the norm. When they start to whistle or catcall when you walk by, you begin to buy into the idea.  By the time they try to grab your braid, grope your crotch or try to pick you up, you believe it with your heart, soul, and apparently oh-so-fuckable ass. 

It doesn't take long to get to the point where you wish you were ugly. Some days it's all you can do not to slam your face into the wall a few times, bust up your nose, make a few scars. It's tempting to throw yourself down the stairs in the hopes of mutilating a couple limbs or grab a kitchen knife and carve ugly lines up and down your skin. But you can't quite bring yourself to do it because somewhere in the back of your head, past all the anger and hate and insecurities, even past all those secret hopes and dreams, there lives a voice that calls you its handsome boy. A voice that isn't crude and assuming and lewd. A voice that is gentle and loving. A voice without a face.

Sometimes that voice is the only thing that stands between you and the gun.

As time passes, you realize that even though it hasn't affected your physical appearance, life has made you ugly within. It has filled you with only negative emotions, destructive tendencies, cynicism and sarcasm. It has made you resentful, standoffish, wary, and hateful. It has jaded you.

You can't find a reason to care.

++++++

"Settle down, you hooligans!" The teacher barked. Dressed in a sweatshirt, blue jeans, and sneakers, Mr. Martin lounged against his desk in the front of the noisy classroom, crossed his arms, and waited. His so-called pupils continued to misbehave, holding conversations, arm wrestling, gossiping, talking on cell phones, making out, even sleeping. In a class of thirty-five, only two were actually working on the assignment. 

He tried again. "I have an announcement! If you care about passing, stop talking now!"

About a fourth of the class quieted down and gave him their attention. The rest continued to ignore him.

"If you don't pass, you'll have to take the class again!" he announced loudly.

Instant rapt attention. "I thought so," he chuckled ironically. "Now, will someone please wake Mr. Maxwell up so I don't have to repeat myself?"

All eyes turned to the slumbering figure seated in the middle of the room. Clad in a black hooded sweatshirt, oversized camouflage pants, and a pair of scuffed Adidas shelltops, the class outcast, slacker, and all around misfit sat slumped over his desk, hood-covered head face-down atop his folded arms.

"Hey, Sleeping Beauty. Wake the fuck up." The jock sitting next to him leaned over and punched his shoulder, jostling him awake. Maxwell reluctantly straightened in his seat, face hidden by his hood and shaggy bangs. 

"Keep your goddamn syphilis to yourself, shitface," he muttered.

"Oooo. Someone's a little grumpy. Whatsa matter? Didn't get enough beauty sleep?"

"Alright, kids, that's enough," Mr. Martin spoke up before things could turn ugly. "I have some news. As I'm sure you're all very well aware, the end of the year is rapidly approaching."

Cheers.

"Yes, yes. We're all quite pleased. As I was saying, with the end of the year come certain obligations, such as a final exam."

Boos.

"In light of your... stunning... track records, I have decided to assign a take-home essay. Two thousand words on the theme of your choice. A mere trifle."

"Two thousand?" a girl wearing a skintight, low-cut tank top winced. "I can't write no two thousand words. Dat shit's long."

"That is why I have taken the liberty of assigning personal tutors. My good friend teaches Advanced Placement English at St Michael's Academy and was also searching for a final project. We collaborated and decided that his students could work with you boys and girls and help you complete your final essays."

"Excuse me, man, but some of us don't need any help," a voice spoke up.

"I'm aware of that. Luckily, he only has twenty-three students to our thirty-five. Those of you with the twelve highest GPAs I am entrusting to complete the paper by yourselves. The rest of you... his class will be meeting with ours tomorrow in the library during this period. You can meet your tutor then and set up a meeting schedule. I expect you to be courteous and welcoming. There will be no, I repeat, NO mocking of their uniforms. In fact, the second you even _think _about being disrespectful, you lose your right to a tutor and must complete the assignment without aid."

"That's harsh, dude."

"That is what you've forced me into. Alright, I'm done speaking. Continue working on your assignment. I'll collect it at the end of the period."

Pandemonium erupted once more. Shaking his head, he fished his newspaper off his desk and buried himself behind it. "Beastly children," Mr. Martin muttered, engrossing himself in the stock reports.

+++++

"I'm tutoring a boy after school from now on," Heero spoke softly, pausing as he lifted a bite of lobster from his plate. "It's part of my English final."

"That's nice, dear," his mother replied, dabbing her lips with a linen napkin. "Be sure to inform Maria of the days when you'll be late so she can set aside a plate for you."

"Who is this boy you're tutoring? A younger student?" his father asked with a marked lack of interest, only seeking to fill the silence.

"He is in my grade, but he attends public school," Heero dipped his bit of lobster in a small bowl of butter. "I'm to help him write an essay."

"Public school?" his mother looked amused. "Small wonder he needs a tutor. The local schools are simply abysmal! To think of all we pay in taxes..."

"Well, I'm sure you'll do a fine job, son," Mr. Yuy smiled disinterestedly before changing the subject. "Did either of you hear the weather report for tomorrow? I'm supposed to tee off at 10AM sharp with the CEO of Tyre, Industries. You know how business can be."

"Excuse me," Heero said abruptly, folding his napkin and laying it next to his mostly full plate. "I'm suddenly not feeling very well."

"Alright, dear. Tell Maria if you need anything, hmm? She's here until nine tonight."

"Thank you, Mother. Good night, Father. Good luck with your game." Heero stood and exited the dining room. His parents watched him go.

"That boy is very amusing," Mrs. Yuy giggled. "So old fashioned and pretentious." 

"Maybe we should have sent him to public school," Mr. Yuy frowned. "Toughened him up a little."

"Pshaw! And have some low class hussy seduce him for his money? No, I like him just where he is."

"It might have been good for him to meet people who are different from him. That boy has no idea what the real world is like."

"Oh, pooh. Anyone who's had internet access for as long as he has _has _to have some idea of reality!"

"Seeing it on the internet and seeing it for yourself are two very different things. I'm beginning to think this tutoring assignment might actually be a very good idea."

+++++

"Alright, kids, settle down!" Mr. Martin clapped his hands loudly, drawing the attention of his errant class. "Your tutors are about to arrive, so please try to behave yourselves. Remember, this is a library, not the cafeteria." He paused. "Will someone please awaken Mr. Maxwell?"

The door to the library swung open, revealing a tall man clad in a suit. As he entered the large room, he was followed by two neat lines of students. The uniformed teenagers looked around them with an aura of aversion and disdain. The shabby school was obviously not up to their standards of decor. The library, though large, had few shelves of books. Most of its space was consumed by small tables, at which Mr. Martin's class were currently sitting. To call the room utilitarian would almost be a compliment.

"Take a seat," their teacher instructed his reluctant class firmly. Then he moved to greet Mr. Martin. "How are you, Steve?"

"Not bad. Class, this is Dr. Elliot and his students from St. Michael's. Say hello."A reluctant chorus of welcome arose. He chuckled. "Don't sound so enthusiastic. Well, now that we're all here, how about we explain the particulars of this assignment. Dr. Elliot?"

"Thank you. As I'm certain we are now all aware, Mr. Martin's students are required to write a 2000 word essay for their final exam. My students are to tutor them. You are to meet together at least once a week for the next five weeks. At that time, the papers are due. Mr. Martin's students will be graded on the quality of their work and my students will be graded by the improvement in their writing."

"That doesn't mean you're to write their papers for them. Trust me, I'd notice," Mr. Martin continued. "But you are to guide them. And they will listen and try to learn something."

"Once a week I will be collecting a brief progress report from my students. I believe Mr. Martin requires his pupils to bring in their notes and rough drafts, as they are done."

"That's right. So now that we've got that covered, let's pair you up! Now, your teacher and I have spent a lot of time considering who should work with whom. We tried to match you by your strengths and weaknesses. I think we did a pretty good job. When I call your names, please find one another and sit together. First up, Douglas Goodrich and Perla Taveras."

"Heero Yuy and Duo Maxwell." Only one student arose. "Duo Maxwell.... Mr. Maxwell. MAXWELL! Will someone please wake Mr. Maxwell up?"

"Yo, douchebag. Wakey wakey!"

"I hear ya, McNeel," Duo sat up, his hair hanging in his eyes. "What the fuck you want?"

"Tom doesn't want anything, Mr. Maxwell. However, I would be delighted if you would pay attention and go pair up with your tutor." Mr. Martin pointed to where Heero was waiting, a look of displeasure on his face. 

"Sure, whatever." Duo stood and stumbled to the table where Heero stood. He threw himself down in an empty chair and laid his head back down on the table. "Wake me when it's over," he requested, pulling his hood down over his eyes and quickly falling back asleep. Heero shot a questioning look at his teacher. 

"Just leave him alone for now," Mr. Martin shook his head. "He hasn't been awake for any other part of the year. Why start now?"

When all the students were paired up, they were given free reign to discuss their project. Soon the room was filled with young voices. However, one pair remained silent.

Heero sat staring at his unconscious partner. He didn't know what to think. First he was taken to this hideous, dirty, rundown school. Then he was assigned to work with a sloppy, slobbering idiot. He eyed Duo's oversized clothes with distaste and wondered why Duo slept so much. Was he that depressed or was he hung over or perhaps stoned? No one could naturally be this tired at nine in the morning.

Mr. Martin wandered past their table and paused. "I'm sorry, Heero. I realize this is going to be frustrating for you. Don't be afraid to rap him when he dozes off. Lord knows everyone else does."

Heero frowned. Rap him? Cautiously, he reached out and shook the boy's shoulder, reluctant to touch him. Happily, Duo awakened at the slightest touch.

"Hands off, asswipe," he grunted, hauling himself upright in his seat. He rubbed his eyes and peered blearily across the table. He blinked. "I don't know you."

"I'm from St. Michael's," Heero said. "I'm your English tutor."

"Oh," Duo yawned. "What're we supposed to be doing?"

"I'm supposed to help you with your final paper."

"Oh, sure. Sure. The essay thing, right." He yawned again. "So what do we need to do?"

"We need to arrange meeting times so that I can assist you. I am free any afternoon but Tuesdays and Thursdays."

"Umm... Let me think." Duo squinted, his face shadowed by his hood. "I usually have off on Monday afternoon. That good for you? Say around three o'clock?"

"Yes. Where do you want to meet?"

"How about the public library? We can meet by the reference section."

"Alright." Heero reached into his bag and drew out a Palm Pilot. He entered the appointment into the personal calendar. By the time he looked up again, Duo was once more asleep on the table. Heero spent the rest of the period staring silently into space.

+++++

"So how was your tutoring session, my boy?" Mr. Yuy inquired, delicately slicing his porterhouse steak. "Win the Nobel Prize for literature yet?"

"No, Father." Heero frowned, stirring his mixed vegetables around with his fork. "I must confess, I'm a little frustrated."

"Is he uncooperative, dear?" Mrs. Yuy sipped her red wine and hummed with pleasure.

"No, I don't think so," he considered. "It was difficult to tell. He kept falling asleep." He frowned again. "In fact, I don't even know what he looks like. He kept his face covered the entire time, either with his hair or his hood."

"Oh, he sounds so disreputable." Mrs. Yuy gave a dramatic shiver. 

"Now, now, my lovely. I'm sure Heero won't be bringing him home, now will you?"

"No, father."

"There's a lad. Oh, before I forget, I'm afraid I'm going to be in Japan for the next month or so. I'm in the middle of..."

+++++

Heero sighed and consulted his watch once more. It was a quarter past three and Duo still hadn't shown up. He wondered if he had fallen asleep somewhere. He wouldn't be surprised in the least.

Ten minutes later and he was ready to leave. Gathering his bag, he shoved back his chair and was about to stalk out the door when a hand grabbed his arm.

"Wait! I'm here. I'm here." He turned to find the student from the other day standing slightly behind him. He still wore a hooded sweatshirt and its hood was still drawn low of his face. 

"It's about time," Heero snapped. "Where were you?"

"I was... detained," Duo muttered. 

"Detained?"

"Yeah. Detained." Duo slouched onto a chair and set his backpack down on the table. "You want to get started or what?"

Heero sat across from him. "Yes, let's begin. Have you thought of a theme yet?"

"A theme?" Duo sounded confused. "Why do I need to do that?"

Heero resisted the urge to leave. He did not suffer fools well. "So you know what you're going to write about."

"But I'm done," Duo protested, drawing a sheaf of looseleaf papers from his bag. "I wrote it last night."

"Let me see," Heero demanded, holding out his hand. He doubted it would be very good. He skimmed over the rumpled sheets quickly. "This is good," he admitted in surprise. "Why were you assigned a tutor?"

Duo shrugged. "Yeah, well, it's not that I can't write. It's that I hardly ever hand anything in."

"Why's that?"

"No time to do the assignments. Can I have my paper back now?"

"Sure," Heero took one last look and then reluctantly extended the papers. He drew them back when he saw the dried blood on Duo's knuckles. "What happened to your hand?"

"Nothing. My papers?"

"Is that why you were... detained?"

"Yeah, alright, it was. Now fork it over."

Heero passed the papers over the table with a glare. "I don't approve of fighting."

"I don't like it myself, but sometimes you don't really get a choice, okay?"

"There is always a choice."

"Well, some of us can't afford choices. Now excuse me, I have someplace else to be."

"Same time next week?"

"Yeah, sure. Whatever." Duo paused, and threw the papers back at him. "Here, knock yourself out editing. You might as well do something."

Heero watched as he walked away, his frame all by enveloped by his baggy attire. He still had no idea what his companion looked like. 

**-end-**

A/N: *sighs* No, this isn't new. It was begun almost a year ago, before the joyous arrival of your friend and mine, Writer's Block. Ill-content with the traditional offerings of hor'dourves and wine, this unwelcome guest has become a permanent fixture for reasons no one this side of Kato Kaelin can hope to understand. I'm gambling that once this is posted publically, I can guilt myself into writing more. So bring on the guilt!


	2. Chapter Two

Thank you all for the encouragement. It seems it did wonders; this chapter is the first thing I've written since May. I'm very grateful! 

  


Disclaimer: You know the drill.

  
  


Control Freak Part Two

  


The paper was even better than he'd initially thought. Fidgeting with the unused red marking pen he held in his hand, Heero reread the final paragraph, unconsciously savoring the flow of the words. It seemed, he admitted to himself, that this final assignment would require little to no effort on his part.

Heero leaned back in his desk chair and pursed his lips pensively, tapping his pen absent-mindedly against the edge of his desk. He was intrigued, he had to admit. Despite his tutee's seemingly shambling nature, he had a knack for expressing himself on paper that was certainly enviable. He had more voice than any single writer had a right to and a vocabulary like a word-a-day calendar. Why was he in a remedial English class?

  


Snorting through his nose, he sat forward and planted his elbows on the desk, cupping his chin in his hands. An essay like that would earn at least a seven, possibly even an eight on the AP grading scale. (1) Writing at that level came as a result of only three things: sheer talent, exemplary instruction, or some combination of both. Knowing what he did of the school Duo attended, he was forced to conclude the boy possessed something above average in terms of literary skills. He hated to admit to it, but that conclusion kindled a bit of respect within his mind. 

  


He stared down at the sheets of uniform lettering, the handwriting so neat it could almost be mistaken for a computer print-out. _Two thousand words in one night,_ he mused, _and without the aid of a word processor._

  


A solid knock on his bedroom door interrupted any further thoughts. "Come in!" he barked, irritated at the intrusion. 

  


Maria poked her head through the door and grinned. "Good thing I wasn't your mother, kid, or she'd rip you a new one about proper decorum. 'A true gentleman answers the door himself, rather than yelling like a barbarian,'" she sniffed, mimicking Mrs. Yuy's slightly haughty voice perfectly. 

  


"I could care less what my mother thinks," Heero returned, rising from his chair to claim the fresh laundry the woman had come to deliver.

  


"Maybe you should care a little more," she replied enigmatically, handing over the neat stack of school uniforms. "I found this on your mother's night stand."

  


He set the laundry on the edge of his bed before taking the glossy pamphlet with a frown. "Ms. Plinkley's School For Well-Mannered Young Persons," he read. "Social graces to last a lifetime. Social, business, and dining skills. What is this, Maria?"

  


"Your mother's latest endeavor, but more importantly that what it is, look _when _it is," she replied seriously, taking the sheet and pointing to a schedule on the back. "Tuesdays and Thursdays at 3:30PM."

  


"The same time as kick-boxing lessons," Heero dully noted. 

"And we all know how your mother loves those."

  


He made a small sound of derision, staring in rapt fascination at the cover shot. He found it very hard to imagine himself wearing a ruffled poet's shirt and skintight leggings, but it appeared that was to be his fate. "Do you suppose I could salvage the situation with aptly applied social graces?" he inquired half-heartedly.

  


"Sorry, kiddo," Maria shook her head. "You know your mother as well as I do. Once she gets an idea in that head of hers, it sticks like shit to a dog's ass."

  


Flinching inwardly at her choice of words, he inclined his head. "Point taken." With a sigh, he handed the pamphlet back to the older woman. "You'd better put this back before she notices it's missing."

  


"Yes, sir. Very good, sir," she bowed and scraped repeatedly, backing slow towards the door.

  


"Stop it," he snapped. "You know I don't think of you like that."

Maria rolled her eyes. "Your parents need this more than you do," she confided, raising the pamphlet. 

He had no inclination to contradict her statement.

* * *

"GET YOUR SCRAWNY ASS OVER HERE, MAXWELL!" 

"COMING!" he hollered in response, his breath swirling visibly through the arctic air of the meat chamber. A forty pound slab of meat slung over each shoulder, he staggered through the rows of dismembered carcasses, trying not to think too much about what each slab of flesh once was. He'd been working in the meat processing plant for almost a year now and it still made him slightly ill at ease. Not that he was a converted vegetarian... but the thought had crossed his mind more than once.

He approached his boss, a burly man who strongly resembled the stereotypical lumberjack, flannel coat and all. In fact, his appearance was quite reminiscent of the Brawny paper towel man, complete with beard and razor-sharp axe. Currently said axe was actively engaged in dismembering a frozen bovine. Although they had machines to do that sort of thing, the man had a penchant for a fiery temper and hacking up livestock intended for general consumption did wonders for his psyche. Duo wondered what it said for _his _psyche that he continued to work for such a nut job.

Weaving slightly under the load draped across his frame, he reached the butcher's block and allowed the meat to slip onto its surface with a satisfying thump. Taking a deep breath, he grinned manically as the air burned through his lungs. Three AM. His shift was finally over. "Gotta head out, boss. Catch you tomorrow."

He turned to go, already peeling off his protective jacket and insulated work gloves. Before he'd gone more than a few steps, however, a solid pull on his hood jerked him nearly off his feet, causing him to skitter for traction on the icy floor. He regained his footing and glared over his shoulder at his employer, whose hand was currently firmly attached to his shirt. "What's your problem? Get the fuck off of me!" he snarled, aiming a kick backwards into the man's shin. He was still off-balance, however, and all the move earned him was a face full of concrete. He winced as his jaw connected with the floor and glared upwards with all the animosity he could muster.

His boss towered above him, his axe slung casually over his shoulder, laughing at his expense. It was not a Kodak moment. "Nice one, Maxwell. Now get your ass up and do your fucking job."

"My shift's over," he grit out, thrusting to his feet angrily, his gloves lying crumpled amongst the by-products riddling the floor. The plant was, through methods unknown to him, far removed from the health inspector's sphere of influence. He wouldn't have been surprised if the body parts strewn across the floor were older than he was.

"Your shift's not over til I say it's over. And I say it's not." 

Duo shrugged and once more started towards the exit, wiping away a trickle of blood oozing from his split lip. "Who gives a fuck what you say? I'm leaving."

"Walk out that door and you're fired, kid."

He stopped dead in his tracks, shoulders tensing unconsciously, his hands bunching into fists at his sides. "You wouldn't."

"Like hell."

He spun angrily and snapped. "Who the fuck else are you going to find to put with your shit?"

"Who the fuck else are you going to find that will give a goddamn fifteen year old a job?"

"_You _did, didn't you?"

"How many other shits out there you think got their asses covered this well?"

"Plenty."

"Name one."

"I'll _find _someone."

"Not if I put word out that you're a thief."

His breath caught in his chest and he struggled to maintain his dispassionate tone. "I've never stolen from you."

"Who's going to believe you?"

"Fuck."

"Now put your fucking gloves on and get back to work." 

He did.

----

Footnotes

1. The English AP exam grades essays on a scale of zero through nine, nine being the highest. Correct me if I'm wrong (it's been years), but I'm pretty sure the only way to get a zero is to flat out not answer the question.

----

*is very dissatisfied* Well, it's _something_. 


	3. Chapter Three

Only took 63 reviews to make me take action. nervous laughing Please don't maim me.

Disclaimer: Might I dare suggest that this is erroneous and unnecessary?

Warnings: Language, melodrama, & cliches (which will hopefully be rectified shortly). 

Control Freak III

Heero sat at the library table, dispassionately staring down at the book open before him, glare firmly affixed on his face. He was obviously in a bit of a snit; he had loosened his uniform's tie and the top four buttons were undone on his shirt. His sleeves were pushed up to the elbows, showcasing white-knuckled fists curled tensely closed. A ramrod straight back completed the picture of carnassial vexation. Duo was not at all certain he wanted to approach him, especially given that he was nearly half an hour later than planned. Still, he had little choice in the matter. Wondering why he was so intimidated by a prissy private school boy, he strode to the table and pulled back a chair, flopping unceremoniously down.

"Sorry I'm late," he offered flatly, opening his backpack and removing a notebook and pen.

"Let me guess," Heero snapped. "You were... detained."

"Your masterful control of sarcasm is duly noted," Duo ground out, desperately seeking patience. Socking his tutor would not bode well for graduation. "However, I got here as quickly as possible. Now if we could just get this over with, I'm fairly sure we've both got other things we need to be doing."

"Actually, I'm free for the rest of the afternoon," came the cool reply. Heero closed his book and pulled Duo's essay from beneath it, laying it on the table between them and smoothing it unnecessarily with his hands. "That's probably a good thing, given your paper... if you can call it that."

"What the fuck is that supposed to mean?" Duo snapped, tolerance evaporating into a puff of smoke. He had better things to do than this. Things that _paid_, dammit, which in his own humble opinion was a lot more important than listening to some white bread pansy lecture him on the proper use of commas. "It sucks, doesn't it? Fine, then," he said, grabbing his book and preparing to leave, "I'll just go home and write a new one-" 

"Sit down," Heero commanded. Then, sensing the open fury emanating from his tuttee, added "Please." 

Duo warily sat.

"Look," Heero started. "I'm sorry I'm being rude. It's just..." He paused, closed his eyes, and breathed deeply. Having regained a semblance of equilibrium, he returned his gaze to Duo and continued. "I trust you'd rather not hear of my personal life, but suffice it to say that things have not been pleasant at home lately. I was transposing my anger onto you and for that I apologize. Now if you would like to continue this in a more civilize manner, I'd be more than willing to begin again."

"Whatever." He shrugged and dropped his notebook back on the table. "Tutor at will."

"Thank you," he sincerely replied. "Now, if we could discuss your essay. It's actually quite good. I really... there wasn't much I could do to improve it. There were a few slang phrases here and there that needed work, but other than that it's perfect."

"Yeah, if there's one thing I do well, it's communicate," Duo flatly said, propped his chin in his hand, elbow leaning on the table.

Heero blinked at him, surprised at the near rejection of his praise. "Before we go over the revisions, I just wanted to ask you about a few statements you make. Such as this one on page five. What do you mean when you... I'm sorry, but would you mind removing your hood? It's very distracting to not be able to see you."

Now it was Duo's turn to blink. "Uh, sure. I guess. Whatever." He pulled down the hood with one swift movement. "I forget I'm wearing it most of the time. Force of habit." He narrowed his eyes as he noticed Heero staring blankly at him. "Got a problem there, buddy? Something you'd like to say, maybe?"

"I'm sorry," Heero replied near-vacuously. "I was under the impression I was tutoring a boy."

"That's it. I so don't need this shit." Duo yanked his hood back into place and shoved back his chair, grabbing his things in one swift movement. Before Heero knew quite what was happening, he was half-way to the exit. 

"Wait!" he shouted, scrambling to collect his things. "I didn't mean to offend you! You're a very pretty girl!"

"FUCK YOU!" was all the response he got as his tutee slammed out the library doors. 

"Well, shit," Heero said vacantly. He shifted under the disapproving gaze of the other patrons, then sighed and made to leave. Maybe he could still catch up with the other student. As he passed the circulation desk, one of the librarians quietly called to him.

"Young man, come here for a moment, if you will." Shooting a desperate glance towards the door, he reluctantly complied, fully expecting to be reprimanded for disturbing the quiet atmosphere. He came to a halt in front of the desk.

"You, young man, have just made a very grave mistake," the tall, blonde woman clucked. "If there's one thing that upsets Duo, it's being mistaken for a girl."

"You know... him?"

"Oh, quite well. He's come here every Saturday since he was in pre-school. He used to be such a nice young thing, but then life happened. A shame, really." She shook her head sorrowfully, seeming to momentarily forget Heero was present. Then abruptly she turned to stare at him. "This may be an imposition on my part, but I would strongly suggest you apologize to him post haste, lest you find yourself in a rather unpleasant situation."

Heero frowned. "Is he part of a gang?"

The woman broke out laughing. "Duo?! Heavens, no. He is, however, rather too fond of using his fists. I wouldn't be surprised if he was waiting for you right outside."

"You approve of his behavior?" he asked distastefully, interpreting her mirth as consonance. An image of Duo's split knuckles at their first tutoring session burst into his mind. 

She affixed him with a stern look. "Listen to me, young man. I've never seen Duo assault anyone unprovoked. He might intimidate the hell out of you, threaten violence, but unless you make the first move he won't touch you."

"How do you know that?" he asked suspiciously.

"Who do you think he goes to to get fixed up? I've known him since he was three. It was I who taught him to read and write. Precocious child if I ever saw one. A shame he's forced to live the way he does."

"Live what way?"

"Oh, dear. I've said too much. He'll be angry with me. Oh, well. That's nothing new." She sighed. "Please, you should go now and find him. Try to apologize and for heaven's sake don't try to hit him."

"Thank you for your help, Miss..." he glanced at her name-tag. "Miss Po."

"Sally, please. Now, shoo shoo. You've already disturbed our library quite enough for one day."

He stepped out into the blinding sunlight and, sure enough, there was Duo waiting for him, leaning up against a lamppost with a less-than-pleased expression on his face. When he saw Heero, he levered himself upright and stalked feverishly over, starting to talk before he could even begin to apologize.

"Number one," he spat, coming to a stop well within Heero's personal space, "you have a big fucking trap and if you know what's best for you, you'll learn to keep it closed around me very quickly." 

Despite his lack of height and seemingly scrawny physique, the boy still managed to put off a very intimidating aura. Heero was a little put off. He steadily maintained eye contact, however, silently telling himself that he didn't have to listen to a thing Duo said. Unless he wanted to, of course. 

Sensing the other's defiance, Duo moved in closer still, standing with legs spread little more than a foot away. "Number two. I'm sure you'll find after closer examination that that mailbox looks more like a girl than I do. Yeah, I have long hair. The resemblance ends there and you'd best remember that."

To his surprise, Heero found that Duo was correct. Once he looked past the shaggy, overgrown hair, the boy's features were undeniably male. There was nothing soft or girlish about them, with the possible exception of the wide, blue eyes. Of course, given as they were currently narrowed to near slits and held a look of deep grained hatred, even they were fairly masculine at the moment. It was a face not unpleasant to look at.

"Third and finally," Duo continued seriously, by now face-to-face with the object of his animosity. "You are not any better than I am. You might have the bucks and toys and all that shit, but you are not better than me and you cannot intimidate me with your fancy-pants upbringing. Kapish?"

"I never said I was better than you," he responded automatically.

"Oh, come off it, Yuy. Superiority was dripping from your pores from the second you saw me. You probably decided I was drunk or stoned that first day in the library," he accused. When Heero didn't deny it, he practically growled in frustration. Angrily, he spun on his heel, walked a few paces away, spun once more, and stalked back over. Jabbing an accusing finger in Heero's face, he continued, "Let me tell you something, fuck-twat. When you haven't slept two nights straight because you were up to your eyebrows in cow entrails in a subzero meat locker, then you can sit on your throne and judge me. Until then, you can just keep your little inbred, aristocratic opinions to yourself. You're my tutor, not my guidance counselor. You're here to correct my grammar, not my fucking lifestyle. So just hand over the goddamn essay and we'll call it even. I've had enough of this bullshit play school crap." He made a snatch at the papers Heero still clutched unwittingly in his hand. Unfortunately, Heero interpreting the move as an assault rather than a harmless grab.

_I thought Miss Po said he never made the first move_, he thought half-unconsciously, his body already reacting to the threat that Duo seemed to be posing. Years of kick-boxing drills told him that the quickest way to win this would be a swift kick to the head. So that was just what he did. Dropping his books to the ground, he shifted his weight to the right and swung his left leg up, slamming it into the side of Duo's head. Although he quickly regaining his balance, no further defense was necessary. He was gratified to note that, as he keeled over onto the sidewalk, Duo's hood fell off his head, revealing a very surprised expression. He made no effort to break the other boy's fall.

He stood above the figure writhing on the sidewalk, currently occupied with clutching its now bleeding lip. "You stand there accusing me of arrogance and apathy," he stated blandly, stooping to gather his things. "You label me with a superiority complex and mark me as a snob. You claim I think you're inferior to me. Why shouldn't I? I've never treated you with anything but politeness and you've been nothing but cold and abrasive towards me. I agreed to meet with you according to your schedule and you've been late every time. I complimented your work and you dismissed it outright." He straightened and stared down at the other boy, his blank countenance belying his internal anger. "To top it all off, now I try to apologize for making a stupid mistake and you jump down my throat and attack me before I can get a word out." 

"I didn't attack you, you fucking twit," Duo grunted, preoccupied with wiping away the blood dripping down his chin. He propped himself into a sitting position and glared upward. "I was just trying to get my fucking work. If you call taking what belongs to me assault, you must be missing a few cogs in the head."

"You claim you weren't trying to grab me?" Heero demanded.

"I don't claim anything. I state I did not try to assault your fucking personage, your highness." He thrust to his feet, still holding his jaw with one hand. The other he held out, fingers splayed, in clear supplication for his paper. "Now just give me my goddamn work and we never have to see each other again."

Heero stared at the extended hand, his brain in turmoil. The person standing before him might be a mass of contradictions, but one thing was certain. He had just made a huge ass out of himself. He sighed deeply in resignation. Instead of holding out the papers, he grabbed Duo's hand and shook it as an expression of his contrition. "I'm sorry," he offered. "Sometimes I react without knowing what I'm doing. I tend to... overreact."

"There's an understatement," came the muttered reply, sarcastic as expected. Duo withdrew his hand from the grasp, but continued to hold it out. "My papers?"

"I think we should try and work this out," Heero responded, still holding tight to the essay. 

"I think you should maybe give me my work before I knock your face in," Duo replied in an overly-friendly and obviously fake tone. "I am trying very hard not to at the moment and only Miss Eagle-Eyes at the window there is keeping me from doing just that."

Heero chanced a look behind him and found Miss Po staring out at them from a nearby window, disapproval clearly on her face. It was not directed at Duo. Wondering if he'd ever be welcome at this particular library again, Heero once more tried to offer his apologies. "Look, I think we should make another stab at this. I really would like to talk about some of your ideas." 

"And I would like to leave before I'm out of a job," Duo grit out. "Papers. Now."

"Fine." Heero handed them over without further delay. As soon as he had them safely ensconced in his backpack, Duo pulled up his hood, pivoted, and strode swiftly away. "I'll see you next week then," Heero called after him. A one-finger salute was all the response he got.

-end chapter three-

A/N: Thank you for your patience. As I'm sure you all know, life has a way of interposing itself between you and your hobbies. Let's just say that my life is needier than most.

I'm sure you noticed a change in writing style. I apologize, but I had a really hard time maintaining the previous voice. That's another reason why it took so long for part iii to come out. 

Coming next: 

What happened with his family to put Heero in such a pissy mood?

Exactly what way is Duo "forced to live?"

Thank you to the following awesome people for prodding me onwards and not letting this fic fade away into oblivion: First and foremost, Kitana (who just might have to sharpen her pencils after all!). Also Bethany, the peace person, sphinx, tica, tiger shinigami, moon light dragon, scarlet red, dream keeper, mage of swords, darkphoenix365, sara, duosdeathscythe, painted smile, devona wolf, karen mccoy, foxrocker, care, shadow-seraph, lilli39, ani anime, nina, rikasakuraduo-heerosyliaspike, kitty kat 3030, doublemint, link worshiper, shinu, mama-sama, anrui, shin-chan, ellen, maigo, plastic tree, keiran, teearejay, p, shinigami11, pewp, kael kalespell, xxmelodyxx, akenna, kelp soda, bane's desire, katrina, maxwellschurch, midnight, caeolite, ryoko-caolan, hikaru, kairo-chan, violet eyes, shadow seraph, shru, midori5, and mariana1. 


	4. Chapter Four

 SEQ CHAPTER h r 1I received a very good question from Queen of Vegetasei regarding child labor laws. I realize that they vary slightly by state, so telling you I'm most familiar with NY laws might help. Also, if you're under the age of eighteen there are a certain number of hours you are legally able to work each week. For someone who needs to work full-time or hold multiple jobs, working off the books would be ideal. Since this was not made clear, Duo is working off the books, thus making it difficult to find new employment. Why in a meat packing plant? You can blamed Chris for that. XD

  


Disclaimer: As always and ever, not mine.

Warnings: Language

**Control Freak IV**

"You said that to your mother?!" Quatre asked in astonishment, dropping his pencil to the desk and abandoning his calculus homework.

"Yes," Heero reiterated, looking up from where he lay sprawled on his friend's floor, reading a news magazine. "Along with any number of other unpleasant things."

"You know, Heero, there were probably far more diplomatic ways to deal with that," the blonde chided, dropping down off his chair to sit beside the other boy. "While I understand your feelings, threatening to sue for parental divorce was a bit drastic."

He shrugged and idly turned a page in his magazine. "I'd win and they know it. They've been wasting my money for years now."

Quatre laughed and pulled the magazine out of his hands, shutting it firmly before setting it aside. "I know just how much that money means to you, Heero."

"It's the principal of the thing," he grinned. "Besides, who's to say I didn't have a sudden change of heart? College is fast approaching. Maybe I realized exactly what all the money means for my future."

"Oh, come off it. You're just sick of them trying to control you," Quatre scoffed, rising to his feet and absent-mindedly brushing off the back of his pants. He crossed the room to his violin stand an picked up the instrument and bow, preparing to play.

"Would you like to attend Miss Plinkley's School for Social Graces?"

"Point taken. So they've backed off, then?"

"Yeah. When they say money changes people, they weren't joking. Five years ago I would have been grounded for a lifetime if I'd dared speak to them like that." Heero rolled over onto his back and stared up at the ceiling, his face devoid of all expression.

"Five years ago you wouldn't have had to," Quatre said softly, playing a querulous note.

Heero went still and a sad smile spread across his face. "Isn't that the truth."

"You know they don't mean any harm, Heero."

"Yeah, but they also don't mean any good. I just wish they would get over it. Yes, money opens doors. All it's done between my parents and I, though, is close them."

"You know what they say-"

"If you say 'no door ever closes without a window opening' I'll kick you so hard you won't know what hit you." Heero spoke harshly, clearing signaling the end of that particular topic of conversation. Quatre paused momentarily in his tuning, then resumed where he had left off.

"Did you really kick him this afternoon?" he inquired, abruptly changing the subject.

"To the ground," Heero replied, easily following his friend's train of thought. He picked up the magazine from where Quatre had placed it and began leafing through it once again.

"I don't believe you."

"Come with me next time. I guarantee his face will still be bruised."

"You're taking far too much glee in this."

He sighed. "Actually, I feel guilty as hell." Suddenly losing interst in the magazine, he stood and started towards the door. "I'll see you at school tomorrow, Quatre."

"Don't you want to stay for dinner? We're having that chicken dish you like so much." He placed the violin back in the stand and started towards his friend.

"No, I have to go do something. I'll see you later." Heero walked out of the room, shutting the door behind him.

**-end chapter iv part I-**

A/N: Sorry it's so short, but I just moved and haven't had much free time! I'm trying to get something up once a week and this is all I could manage. The next part will be longer. Promise.


	5. Chapter Five

 SEQ CHAPTER h r 1**Disclaimer**: Characters aren't mine.

**Warnings**: Language and stuff. Relena, but she is not going to be a main character.

**Control Freak Chapter Four, part ii**

"Please, can't you make an exception just this once?" Heero near-begged, leaning forward imploringly on the circulation desk.

Sally Po sighed and shook her head slowly. "For the last time, I can't disclose his address. He would never forgive me and frankly I doubt your intentions."

"I _told _you, I didn't arbitrarily hit him. I thought _he _was attacking _me_!" He raised his voice in exasperation, causing Sally to frown even harder and raise her finger to her lips in classic "SHH!" position. She definitely had the librarian gig down pat.

"Be that as it may, I'm still not in the habit of acting as a personal address book," she chided. "If you need to see him that badly, you're going to have to find out for yourself."

"I already tried asking at his school," he groused. "They wouldn't tell me, either. I did an internet search and it came up dry. The phonebook also had no listing."

"Did you look for 'Duo Maxwell?'"

"Of course. That is his name, after all," his voiced dripped with sarcasm.

"His nickname," Sally corrected, a bit of triumph in her voice.

"What?" he asked blankly, slowly rising to stand straight.

"Duo is his nickname. If you want to find him, you're going to have to find his birth name." Sally smiled at an old woman as she placed a novel on the counter, then turned to put the book on a nearby cart.

"I don't supposed you're going to let me in on the secret."

"Oh, no. I could never do that." Sally turned to face him once more, a look of mock horror on her face.

"Naturally."

"However, being as you're a determined young man, I'm certain you'll eventually track him down. Since I trust so whole-heartedly in your intelligence, I need you to do me a favor." She stepped back from the counter and opened a drawer. "He left his library card here the other day. Would you please return it to him?" She slid the card over the counter, face-down.

Heero picked it up, his heart beating a little faster. He flipped over the card and read the name imprinted on the back. "Dewey O. Maxwell. Dew-o. Duo."

"Precisely," Sally nodded her head. "You are a quick one, aren't you?"

He looked up, a sardonic smirk on his face. "No wonder he goes by a nickname."

"If I were you, I wouldn't talk," came the response. "Now why are you still here? I thought you had an important errand to run."

"Thanks, Sally," he called, already half-way to the reference section.

"No yelling in the library!" she called after him, prompting a series of 'shushes' from her fellow employees. "Oh, shove it," she muttered.

Heero grabbed the local white pages off the shelf and dropped the book on the nearest table. He quickly skipped to the M's and began skimming down the list. "Maxwell... Maxwell... Maxwell... Maxwell! Dewey O. 185 Lafayette Street, Apartment 3G. Bingo."

Leaving the book where it lay, Heero shoved the library card in his back pocket and strode towards the exit, still repeating the address under his breath. He had almost reached the door when suddenly hand entwined itself around his upper arm, startling him to a half. Frustrated, he turned to find the source of interference and found himself facing a broadly smiling Relena Darlian, his oldest childhood friend and the biggest source of aggravation in his life.

"Heero!" she chirped, releasing his arm. "I'm so glad I found you. I've been looking for you everywhere! It was only luck that we happened to drive by and see your car in the parking lot."

"What do you need, Relena?" he asked impatiently, trying to keep a certain level of civility in his tone.

"You mean you don't remember?" Seeing his blank expression, she faked a pout, then laughed, unable to keep up the act for long. "Oh, I don't blame you. It's not like it's dreadfully exciting, anyway. I just wanted to remind you that your mother volunteered you to help us with Habitat for Humanity tomorrow. We're meeting in front of the school at 9:30 tomorrow morning and we'll bus over. Don't be late!"

He _had _forgotten about that. "Why didn't you just call me?" he asked, anxious to be on his way.

"Oh, Heero. Why would I call you when I could tell you face to face?" she breathed, stepping a little closer to him, looking coyly up through her eyelashes.

He took a step back. "Look, 'Lena, I'd love to chat, but I have to get somewhere, okay?"

"Where are you going?" She implored, pushing a few loose strands of hair behind her ears.

"To visit a friend," he replied through clenched teeth. The library card felt like it was burning a hole into his pocket. He wanted to leave. Now.

His heart sunk as she asked, "Can I come?"

He shook his head vigorously. "I don't think-"

"Oh, come on! It'll be fun. Maybe we can all go out for pizza or something." She was practically bouncing where she stood.

He feared what Duo's reaction would be to this uber-cutesy, high maintenance, spoiled princess. On the one hand, it would probably be funny. On the other-- "That's not a good idea."

"Please?" She stopped fidgeting and stared up at him with wide blue eyes, lips curled up in a soft smile.

He'd known her for far too long to say no to that face. He knew what came afterwards: tears. Better to face the wrath of God than Mr. Darlian after making his daughter cry. "... Fine. Just don't push it, okay?"

"Okay, okay! Geez." She puffed her lower lip out for a second, then smiled broadly. "I know! Why don't we take my car? Yours will be fine here and besides, if we do go out for pizza we won't all fit in your coupe!"

"Whatever. Let's just get going."

She grinned. "Pargon is waiting out front. Let's go!" She fairly skipped towards the door, her ruffled skirt flouncing about her hips.

Heero stifled an internal groan. Today _would _be the day she chose to make use of the personal chauffeur her parents provided her with. And if she was using the chauffeur, that meant they'd be riding in the limousine. The very pink limousine. Of death. Sometimes he wondered if it wasn't pink because it was blushing in embarrassment of itself.

He followed Relena to the car and nodded to Pargon as he opened the door for them. "Thank you," he said, ignoring the school children pointing to the car in awe. Yet another drawback to the Idiot Box on Wheels. People stared at it as if it were some kind of celebrity TV show come to life.

Relena settled into her seat, then turned to him with a smile. "So, where are we going?"

"Lafayette Street," he told her absently, staring out the tinted windows. The children had stopped pointing and were instead engaged in a game of monkey in the middle, using a library book as an impromptu ball. He was sure Sally'd have something to say about that.

He sensed Relena's disquiet before she spoke. "Maybe I shouldn't go after all," she said softly, staring down into her lap.

Although seconds ago he would have jumped at the chance to ditch her, suddenly he was angry. She forced herself on him, then was suddenly too good to accompany him? He didn't think so. "We'll be fine. Let's go, Pargon," he ordered. "Please," he amended. "Let's go, please."

He thought he detected a chuckle. "Yes, young master." The car smoothly rolled into motion.

"Do you really think we'll be okay, Heero? That's not such a good neighborhood..." Relena fidgeted nervously with the hem of her skirt, a cotton affair he was sure had cost at least five hundred dollars.

"It's not that bad," he stated, staring out the window at the town passing by.

"I guess we'll be okay. You are a kick boxing master, after all." She suddenly brightened. "Will you protect me if we get attacked, Heero?!"

"I guess so," he admitted. This was one of the silliest moods he'd seen her in for a while. He wondered how much sugar she'd had at lunch.

"Oh, thank you! I feel ever so much better!" Coming from anyone else, he would have interpreted that as sarcasm. She, however, said it with all seriousness. He watched as she took a soda from the built-in fridge and opened the top. He had the sinking feeling that this wasn't going to work out. Not without a little intervention, at least.

"Look, before we get there, let me tell you a few things," he suddenly began, somberly meeting her eyes.

"Okay," Relena blinked. "Sure."

"The friend we're going to meet is named Duo. He goes to the public high school and I'm tutoring him."

"Oh, that AP English thingie, right?" she interrupted, sipping her soda.

"Yes," he said impatiently. "I need you to do me a favor, okay?"

"A favor?" she perked up. "What can I do?"

"It's nothing much. Just... promise me you won't mention his hair? Or stare at it?"

"What's wrong with his hair?" she asked innocently.

"Nothing. Nothing. He's just... sensitive about it. He thinks it's ugly. So just don't bring it up, okay?" he begged.

"Do you think I should offer to take him to a salon or something?" she asked earnestly. "It wouldn't be a problem."

He resisted the urge to cover his face with his hands. "Please don't. Just don't mention his hair. In fact, just pretend it's not there at all."

She looked horrified. "You want me to pretend he's bald?!"

"No!" he practically moaned in frustration. "For the love of all that is holy, no!" He succumbed to the urge to hide his face.

He felt a soft touch on his arm and looked up to find Relena smiling gently. "I'm just fooling around, Heero. I understand completely. Believe me, I'll do my best not to make any of us uncomfortable. If I can manage to negotiate a cross-step-family Christmas party successfully, this should be a piece of cake, right?" The car came to a stop. "We're here. Now please, just trust me not to make a fool out of us, okay? This boy's opinion is obviously very important to you and I promise I won't endanger that."

He objected. "I don't care about his opin-"

"Please, Heero. It's so obvious," she scoffed, climbing gracefully out of the car and looking around. "This isn't so bad. Rather quaintly old-fashioned, actually."

He emerged to stand beside her on the sidewalk and looked around. "You're right," he affirmed. "It's not nearly as bad as they make it out to be."

"Shall I remain with the car, Miss Relena?" Pargon interjected quietly.

"Yes, please," she smiled, regarding the building in front of them. "I doubt this place has an elevator and there's no point in your climbing all those steps. Besides," she smiled. "I'll bet you're anxious to get back to that new novel of yours."

"Yes, Miss Relena," he smiled down on her. "Thank you."

"Enjoy your book," she grinned back. "Now, come on, Heero. Let's go see this friend of yours." She reached out and grabbed his hand, pulling him into motion. "The sooner we see him, the sooner we can convince him to come with us for pizza. I'm starving!" she laughed, opening the front door and disappearing into the dimness of the building beyond.

Heero followed obediently after.

**-end chapter four, part ii-**

**A/N**: That was dialog heavy, huh?

Thank you to link worshiper, mama-sama, plastic tree, skarlet red, lrigelbbub, hails, pewp, jessica jepson, windy river, rumplestiltskin, starbugkenny, tica, lilly, mc-88, mogura, ania-akatrickx, and miaka-sama for reviewing!


	6. Chapter Six

****

Disclaimer: Not mine.

****

Warnings: Language. Relena. Melodrama. Sometimes Relena using melodramatic language.

****

Control Freak part V

The lobby was almost unnaturally cool. A large, scantily furnished area, its small, old-fashioned windows did little to illuminate the cavernous space. Odd shadows fractured off the faded, old furniture, creating a surrealistic atmosphere. The room seemed almost to be locked away from the rest of the world, stagnant in time, an entity unto itself operating apart from the rest of the world. It was unnerving and, Heero thought, almost markedly trite, like a set from a low budget movie.

At the back of the room, farthest from the entrance, was a wide, ill-lit staircase. Although at one point it must have been at the height of elegance, currently its marble steps were marred by grooves worn deep from years of hard use. The polished wooden handrails had lost their shine and were chipped and cracked. More balusters were missing that were present.

"Well," Relena said dubiously, "I guess that's where we're headed." Rubbing her bare arms in an effort to stay warm, she started across the echoing floor determinedly. Heero began to follow, looking about with wary distrust. They hadn't seen a soul since entering the building. Even outside the streets had seem preternaturally calm. If he wasn't a calm, rational adult, he'd wonder if Duo hadn't arranged an ambush.

They were almost to the stairs when his steps suddenly faltered to a halt. "Wait," he called, suddenly uncertain. "I… I just thought of something."

"What's that?" she asked, pausing in mid-step and looking back over her shoulder at him.

"I found his name in the phone book," he muttered.

"So he didn't give you his address?" She looked mildly surprised, then grinned wickedly. "Are you afraid he won't want you to be here?"

"No! Yes! It's just… if **his **name was listed in the phone book, that must mean he lives by himself. Otherwise his parents would have been listed instead of him. I don't know anyone our age who lives by himself.

"Heero." She came back to stand before him and stared solemnly up at him. "As you just said yourself, he **is **our age."

"I think so. I'm not really sure."

She looked slightly exasperated. "But he is **near **our age?"

"Yeah."

"Then it's not unheard of to be living alone. Sometimes family situations just don't work out and it's better for everyone if the members separate. It happens fairly often. Especially," she lowered her voice, "in lower class households."

"It happens in plenty of upper-class ones, too, Relena," he glared. "With your own half-brother, for example."

She flushed. "Zechs didn't leave because of a disagreement. He left because he wanted to find himself."

"Same difference," he shrugged impatiently. He was more curious than ever about the other boy and quibbling over meaningless minutiae was pointless. "Let's go."

"What do you think I was doing?" she griped. They headed towards the stairs.

===================================

The door looked just like every other one. He'd expected it to be somehow different. Maybe be wearing a hood or something. He felt vaguely disappointed.

"Were you planning on knocking?" Relena asked, eyebrows raised, shifting her weight impatiently from foot to foot. The fluorescent light flickering overhead made her look as though she were performing a outlandish, solitary dance.

He glared down at the fidgeting girl and raised his fist, sharply knocking exactly once. The door swung open almost immediately.

"I was wondering how long it would take you," the tall, lithe boy standing on the other side drawled. "I've been watching you through the peephole for damn near five minutes."

"I'm sorry, I must have the wrong address," Heero stuttered. "I was looking for--"

"Duo? Yeah, this is his place. I just crash here sometimes. My name's Trowa. Come on in. If we let you swells stand out there much longer, you're gonna get jumped or something." He grabbed Heero's arm and practically dragged him into the apartment. Relena followed nervously after, silently thanking god she hadn't brought her purse along.

"How did you know we were out there?" she asked meekly, trying not to stare at the small, shabby living room they were unceremoniously installed in. Trowa courteously offered her a seat on what was apparently the best chair, being the only one not draped in bed sheets. She smiled tightly and sat. He smiled in return and gracefully threw himself across a sagging couch, reclining with feline grace.

"When a bright pink stretch limo complete with chauffeur shows up, word tends to travel pretty fast," he smirked. "Doubly so when such a handsome couple is riding inside."

"We're not a couple," Heero bluntly stated, uncomfortably perched on a sagging armchair. "And who told you? We haven't seen anyone since we arrived."

Trowa laughed. "You may not have seen them, but they most certainly saw you. But enough about that. What can I do for you fine people this afternoon?"

"I'm looking for Duo," Heero responded sulkily, already taking a disliking to this odd, ridiculously self-confidant boy.

"Obviously," Trowa rolled his eyes. "Why else would you be here?"

"May I inquire as to where he is?" Relena ventured quietly, her hands folded so tightly in her lap that the knuckles were white. Her chair, as it turned out, was in the best shape because it was upholstered with wool, making it very uncomfortable to sit on without long pants. Politeness dictated that she couldn't squirm, but she wanted to very much. With every urge to scratch, her belief in Trowa's apparent courtesy lessened exponentially.

"But of course," came the response. "He's here."

"Could you tell him we'd like to see him?" Heero asked through clenched teeth. This was going nowhere fast.

"Not while he's sleeping. He wouldn't hear me." Trowa stretched and lolled bonelessly on the couch, obviously having no intent of rising anytime soon.

"Waking him up might help."

"Ah, but then I'd run the risk of being punched before I could explain why I'd awoken him. I'm not sure if you've noticed, but he's pretty good at hitting people. Too bad he's not so adept at waking up peacefully."

"So throw something at him from the doorway."

"Now, now. When someone has a concussion, it's in everyone's best interest not to aim projectiles at their head."

Heero froze. "Did I do that?"

All pretense of hospitality disappeared as Trowa stared him right in the eye. "You most certainly did." He sat up on the sofa and leaned towards the other teenager. "Now would you like to explain precisely why you're here to see Duo, preferably before my patience runs out and I decide to throw you off the fire escape?"

"There is no fire escape," Relena tentatively pointed out.

Trowa stared at her. "Precisely."

"Don't you threaten her," Heero ordered, shooting to his feet.

"I thought she wasn't your girlfriend," Trowa smirked, rising to his feet as well.

"No, but she **is **my friend. Judging from your behavior, I'm guessing you know precisely what that entails."

A sort of respect kindled in the taller boy's eyes, then extinguished almost immediately. "It's too bad you're such a fucker, Heero, or I might have learned to like you. Oh, well. I hope you take punches as well as you give them."

"You're not going to fight, are you?" Relena ventured in a slightly high-pitched voice. "I've never seen a fi--"

"Shut up," both boys ordered her simultaneously, then resumed glaring at one another.

"Ex-**cuse **me," a sullen voice came from behind Heero. "As loathe as I am to interrupt your fun, might I suggest that you **all **shut the fuck up?"

"Don't get in my way, Duo," Trowa growled, flexing his hands.

He snorted. "Or what? You'll hit me for stopping you from hitting him for hitting me? That makes good sense."

Trowa allowed his fighting stance to drop, turning to Duo in quiet exasperation. "Shouldn't you still be in bed?"

"Who are you, Trowa Nightingale, Boy Nurse Extraordinaire? I have a headache, not a friggin' concussion." At this, Heero shot Trowa a look, causing the other teenager to shrug. Ignoring the exchange, Duo threw himself down on the couch and stared at Relena. "I know the asshole you came here with, but who the fuck are you?"

She stiffened. "I'll ask you to refrain from cursing at me--"

He snickered. "Okay, Miss Manners. Let's rephrase the question. While I am mildly acquainted with the pile of feces over there that some might call a human being, I have not had the perhaps-pleasure of being introduced to your ruffle-swathed self. Would you please do me the honor of informing me of your name?"

"Relena," she muttered reluctantly. "D-did Heero do that to you?"

"You mean this?" Duo gestured towards his face, a mess of bruises and scrapes. "Yeah, but don't worry your diamond encrusted head. I've been hit worse." He chuckled self-derisively, then pulled up the hood on his baggy sweatshirt, shoving his hair down the back.

Silence reigned supreme for a moment. Then, "How long did it take to grow that?" Relena boldly inquired.

"Relena," hissed Heero, taking the few steps necessary to reach her side. "I thought I told you--"

"My entire life," Duo cut him off, staring evenly at the blonde girl. "And I don't talk about it. Ever."

"It seems to me," she reasoned slowly, "that if I were to do something as visibly drastic as grow a yard-long braid, I wouldn't be opposed to speaking of it. Otherwise I'd choose to do something a little more subtle."

Duo gave a short bark of laughter. "Yeah, I'd call you the queen of subtle. Nice ride, by the way."

She flushed and Heero inwardly sighed. It was going to be a long afternoon.

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-end chapter v-

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A/N: Sorry about the ending. I had planned to write more, but RL interrupted. Perhaps there will be another update before next weekend to make up for it. ;;

Thank you sentra, indigiodeath666, wing dance, evil bunny, tracye1014, satanira, dark spider, spandex monkey, Natasha aka tash, shadow-seraph, space monkey, shinko ryusei, kaori-chan, star bug Kenny, and fergiai for reviewing!!


	7. Chapter Seven

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Disclaimer: As ever and always, not mine.

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Warnings: Language.

Thank you to Emily, HumHum, Akennea, Vash the Humanoid Sunshower, Pia Bartolini, kaori-chan, kentoukurige, rumplestiltskin, satanira, skarlet red, link worshipper, ellen, camillian, starbugkenny, mc-88, Natasha aka: tash, Jessica Jepson, lrigelbbub, mysterious double, maladyrancor, shadow seraph, and mama-sama for reviewing!

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Control Freak Part VI

"I'd offer you a cold beverage, but that would imply you're welcome to stay," Duo stated with recherché courtesy. "As it is, I'll give you a free pass to the front door, limited time offer, no strings attached." He leisurely raised himself into a sitting position, gingerly brushing his bangs from his eyes. "To make this a once in a lifetime offer, I'll even throw in a rebate good for three tutoring sessions valued at an hour apiece. We suggest that you act now because this offer is expiring fast," he concluded, eyes narrowing ominously.

"Let's go, Heero," Relena urged in a muted undertone. "We obviously made a mistake in coming here." She stood and started towards the door, Trowa moving to open it in an effort to usher them out with the utmost efficiency. His effort was thwarted, however, by the fact that only Relena seemed inclined to exit the premises.

"I didn't come here to bother you," Heero said evenly, planted so firmly in his chair that he seemed to be a permanent fixture in the apartment.

"That's funny because that's sure what you're doing," Trowa scowled, poised next to the open the door. "Now leave."

"Wait," Duo snapped, frowning briefly at his roommate. "Why **did **you come here, then?" he asked Heero, voice paradoxically pullulating with both apathy and curiosity.

"I wanted to apologize again and," he continued quickly, seeing the thin veneer of patience begin to slip from Duo's face, "make a peace offering. We were wondering if you'd like to join us for pizza. My treat. He can come too, if he'd like," he concluded, reluctantly including Trowa in the invitation.

Duo quirked an eyebrow, the motion barely perceptible behind the mass of hair that hung down his face. "So let me get this straight. You tracked me down like a freakin' dog, showed up completely unexpected at my home, and picked a fight with my roommate just so you could invite me to grab a slice at the local pizzeria?" He let out a sharp bark of laughter. "You, Heero, are one deranged fuck-hole of a human being. You beat the shit out of me the last time we met. Now you're offering to treat me to dinner. What'll you do for your next trick? Rip out my tibia, throw it across the room, and then offer to fetch it for me?"

"Only if you promise me a Scooby snack for doing so," Heero deadpanned. Involuntary laughter burst from the other boy, making him feel instantly more relaxed. He found himself able to grin with both open amusement and contrition. "Seriously, though, I made an ass out of myself earlier. I'd like to make amends."

"Sure, whatever," Duo said off-handedly. "Why the hell not? I've never eaten with an insane man before. Let me just grab my shit and we can go." He hauled himself to his feet and disappeared into what had to be the bedroom, leaving Heero to deal with Trowa's open animosity.

"Just to make things clear," he stated flatly, "he's still pissed. If he decides to beat your ass down once we get outside, don't say I didn't give you fair warning."

"I'll take my chances," Heero returned evenly.

"Would you two cut it out. Jesus fucking Christ, it's not like I can't hear you," Duo groused. He reentered the room, having made no visible changes to his physical appearance. "You," he glared at Trowa, "make me sound like some deranged beast that's liable to disembowel random old ladies at any given moment. And you," he turned to Heero, "talk like I'm a fire hydrant you've pissed on. I don't belong to you, you're not entitled to anything from me, and if I didn't believe you're too damned naïve to know how arrogant you come off, I would kick your ass out of here and lock the door behind you. Just to keep things straight, I'm only going with you for four reasons. One, it's better than laying here thinking about the headache you gave me. Two, I might as well get something in return for said headache. Three, it's free food. Four, I feel bad for you, you son of a bitch. I know guys like you. Once you decide something's your fault, you feel like shit until you're forgiven. I'm not enough of a sadist to let that be your problem."

Heero began to deny this estimation, but a sharp glare caused him to snap his mouth shut once more.

"This doesn't mean you're my friend or anything or even that you qualify as an acquaintance," Duo continued. "All it means is that we're even and we can finish this crappy excuse of a paper without going for each other's throats. Now let's go and get some fucking pizza so we can return to some semblance of sanity." Lecture complete, he shoved his hands into his hoodie's pocket and headed out the door, passing Relena where she hovered uncertainly in the hall.

"Are we leaving now?" she ventured hesitantly.

"You bet your fucking ass we are," Duo called over his shoulder, already half-way to the staircase.

"I really wish he wouldn't curse at me," she sighed, attaching herself to Heero's heels as he walked by.

"Maybe instead of expecting him to change for you, you should be willing to change for him," he suggested snidely. "Compromise for once."

Relena frowned. "We're going out for pizza, Heero, not getting engaged. What is _wrong _with you today? You're acting so odd."

"Nothing," he impassively assured her, staring after Duo as he disappeared onto the stairs. "Nothing at all."

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-end part vi-

A/N: Another short one and for the same reason as last time. Sorry! 


	8. Chapter Eight

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Disclaimer: not mine.

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Warnings: Language, but not as much as before. Sorry 'bout that. It's Lawn Guyland's fault!

Thank you to anonymous, shinu, Jessica Jepson, tiinka, punkrock, windy river, hailey, osa p, dancing wolf, slate grey, starbugkenny, mara202, mc88, tiger jade, chibis unleashed, hikaru, plastic tree, pia barolini, maxwells-demon, camillian, rumplestiltskin, mama-sama and link-worshipper for their wonderful reviews and feedback!

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Control Freak part VII

If eating out was always such a process, Heero would far prefer to donate a kidney two than venture to the pizzeria. Furthermore, if patience was a virtue, then he was fairly certain he wouldn't even have to die to be proclaimed a saint. He could perform his three miracles while still breathing and all he had to do was restrain from killing his trio of companions.

Didn't strangle Relena with the strap of her gaudy, over-priced purse. Miracle number one.

Didn't grab Trowa and shove his head out the car window in the hopes of his being decapitated by a convenient telephone pole. Miracle number two.

Didn't gouge Duo's eyes out in an effort to make him stop jeering for three freaking seconds, goddamn it! Miracle number three.

So as his peers bickered about him, he sat docilely in his seat and fantasized about distributing gory and graphic deaths courtesy of his own two hands utilizing the most creative and efficient methods possible. He narrated the process in his mind with all the detachment and impassiveness of a National Geographic announcer.

__

It has been long known among the animals that they are not to bother the King of the Jungle. His favor is sacred and death is delivered per his whim. The safest way to stay in his good graces is to keep out of his way and not disturb him. This is understood by every and all of the animals -except a special, idiotic few. With these creatures it is only a matter of time before the King's disfavor is incurred.

"Your pizza's getting cold, Heero. Don't you want it?" Relena interrupted his thought processes with her banal inquiry.

"No, thank you," he responded civilly, his consciousness still stuck somewhere in the heart of the Congo. "Would you like it?"

"I'm fine, thank you," she smiled, a half-eaten slice in hand.

__

The pathetic rabbit mewled, "No, no, kind King. I couldn't possibly eat of your sacred food."

"You certainly didn't seem to have a problem a few moments ago," the King growled, his teeth bared in a feral snarl, "when you were eating from my personal killing grounds!"

The rabbit trembled. "I didn't think you'd mind…"

"FOOL!" thundered the King, gnashing his teeth in a manner most threatening. Reaching out his mighty paw, he--

"I am so done putting up with your shit!" Duo suddenly jumped up from the table, with what Heero was coming to recognize as his customary scowl affixed on his face. "You're the biggest idiot I've met in my life! You make the Rainman look gifted! I'm going to the john. If you can't die by the time I get back, at least have the courtesy to leave." He stormed away towards the restrooms, several patrons staring condescendingly after him, disapproval clear on their faces.

Trowa shrugged dispassionately and took a sip of his drink. "Sorry about that," he told to Relena. "You'll have to excuse him. He's an excellent judge of character."

Heero looked between the two with a baffled expression on his face. "What just happened?"

Relena mumbled incomprehensibly, having just taken an overly large bite of pizza.

"What?" Heero insisted.

Relena pointed emphatically to her full mouth, chewing with all the speed of a herd of turtles.

He frowned impatiently. "I'm waiting."

She gestured helplessly, causing Trowa to pipe up. "You may not be aware of this," he archly explained, taking a breadstick from the basket at the center of the table, "but your body apparently belongs heart and soul to this young lady sitting here." He broke the bread in half as if to drive his point home.

Relena choked.

"Yessirree, she owns you part and parcel. Staked her claim back in preschool, or so she claims," he continued, absently brushing away some crumbs that had fallen beside his plate.

"What are you talking about?" Heero demanded.

"Did you know that you had abdicated your dating rights, Heero, or were they simply confiscated without your knowledge?" he asked seriously, a pseudo-concerned look on his face.

"That's not what I meant!" Relena spoke up, having regained the ability to breath.

"Oh, really? Then what **did **you mean when you said, 'I see the way you can't stop looking at him, you perverted bastard. Touch him and die.?'"

"I didn't say that!"

"Oh, what was it then? 'I see the lust in your eyes, you nymphomaniac freak. Touch my man and I'll castrate you.?'"

"NO! And please stop. The other tables are staring."

"Oh, that's right. You said, 'I saved my virginity for him. If anyone sleeps with him, it's going to be me.'"

Relena's jaw snapped closed with a click. Lips pursed, she gathered her purse and shoved back her chair, rising to her feet with the utmost dignity. Pulling out her wallet, she tossed a handful of bills on the table without even bothering to check the amounts. "Heero. I'm leaving. Now. Let's go," she snapped.

"If you'd like," he responded, briefly making eye-contact with Trowa. Nodding curtly, he rose from the table and followed Relena's ruler-straight back past the mildly scandalized diners and out into the parking lot. As they waited for Pargon to bring the car around, Relena stood stock still, shoulders quivering with anger.

"I hope you don't plan on seeing them again, Heero," she eventually choked out. "Although I suppose I should be grateful. This afternoon has shown me once more just how much there is to be done in this city."

"They're **people**, Relena, not some community service opportunity," Heero seethed, patience evaporating. "You claim to organize activities to help the needy, proclaim that everyone deserves a chance, and then you dehumanize them. You don't see them as individual human beings. You see them as one more tally mark on the list of mouths fed or clothes provided or-"

"Stop it, Heero!" she demanded, eyes filled with tears. "Just stop. You're right. I **don't **see them as individual people, but not because I don't care. Do you know how much it hurts to see these people and know I can't help them all? I want to so badly, but you just can't! There's too many in need and too many who abuse your help. You can only do the best you can and that means not getting close. I'm sorry if that's not good enough for you, but you know what? I'm not doing this for you. I'm doing this for them and you don't have to understand that because I already do."

"Fine. You work in your way and I'll work in mine. You may see them as two more losers off the street, but they're not. They're **people **and frankly, they're a hell of a lot more interesting than you," he snapped, nearly yelling. Pargon, having brought the limo around, hovered uncertainly at his elbow, obviously confused with the situation.

"Are you ready to go, young sir?" he inquired tactfully, hoping to defuse the situation.

"No, I'm not," Heero declared. "I've still got friends inside." With that, he glared at Relena a final time and started back towards the pizzeria, his heels slapping definitively against the pavement.

"How are you going to get back to your car?" she called reluctantly after him, hoping he wouldn't need a lift, but too polite to utterly abandon him.

"I'll walk. Good-bye, Relena," he answered, not halting in his path. He threw open the door and strode assertively back towards their table, where Trowa was still sitting. The lanky boy was attempting to balance a spoon on the end of his nose, much to the derision of the waiter who was obviously trying to convince him to vacate the premises.

"Excuse me," Heero derisively informed the man, "but we're not through." His good will grudgingly restored by Heero's designer clothing, the waiter unenthusiastically apologized and backed away.

"Is he still in the restroom?" Heero demanded of Trowa. He received a stoic stare in return before the other boy returned to his flatware acrobatics.

"Christ," he muttered under his breath. "What the hell am I thinking?" At the moment he seriously doubted he **was**. After all, who was he kidding? He had a prissy waiter, a pissed-off friend, a pissy peer, and a disappearing tutee to deal with. He didn't have time to consider his options.

"You, wait here," he commanded. Trowa shrugged and, hoping he wouldn't return to find him gone, Heero headed towards the men's room.

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-end part vii-

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A/N: Sorry it's late and kinda short. My boss has been a total bastard lately and I've been spending my free time searching for new employment.


	9. Chapter Nine

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Disclaimer: Not Mine.

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Warnings: Language

Thank you to Rei Tomiyama, Dragen Eyes, Satanira, Niote, Ink2, Lilhana21, T, Link Worshiper, Chibis Unleashed, rumplestiltskin, Skarlet Red, camillian, Thalia16, Aya, Becky, Jania, Akennea, HUMHUM, Ashen Skies, Lrigelbbub, Dancing Wolf, dark revenge, Pia Bartolini, MC-88, tiger jade, and Mama-sama for your wonderful reviews and feedback. Thank you especially for your understanding and support of the job situation.

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Control Freak part VIII

It was by far the most comfortable toilet seat he'd ever sat on. Aggravatingly, it would have been more comfortable still if he wasn't perched atop it like a lunatic, feet pulled up from the floor so that he was curled into a ridiculous ball, his knees thrust into his face. Of course, no matter how forgiving the seat was, the position was doing wonders for the circulation to his lower legs. His left foot had already gone numb and the right one was well on its way.

Cursing quietly to himself, he managed to pull his sleeve up enough to see his watch. Great. He'd barely been there for five minutes. He wondered if that was long enough for the rabid she-witch of psychotic tendencies to have gathered her ruffles and left. She was probably still out there waiting for him to re-emerge so she could do something horrific to him like apologize. God, he hated apologies. Did nothing but make everyone involved uncomfortable and half the time they weren't even sincere. Although sometimes they wound up okay. Or they did until he found himself skulking about an over-decorated men's room in a restaurant where pizza cost the same as a new transmission. At least there wasn't a bathroom attendant.

He sighed and rested his forehead on his knees. Why **was **he hiding in here, anyway? He didn't give a fuck what all those people out there thought of him. When was he ever going to see them again? What were they going to do? Write the incident up in their gossip column and spoil his reputation with Daddy Warbucks, forever denying him the opportunity to tap dance around a mansion wearing a red mini dress? Yeah. He'd take his chances.

Hell, he didn't even care what the Priss-Master's impression was. She'd probably killed so many of her brain cells with all that perfume she wore that she wouldn't even remember they'd met. He'd caught her surreptitiously sniffing herself twice already, her hand straying towards her purse each time. Either she had some stank-ass armpits or her daddy had stock in Chanel No. 5 or whatever the fuck company was responsible for that nauseating smell.

It's not like he cared what Trowa thought of him. Christ, that guy'd held his hair back while he was shit-faced and puking over a toilet far less clean than this one. He doubted he could do anything short of mass murder that would drive Trowa away.

As for Heero… Fuck. He liked the guy. A lot. More than he should. Sure, he was sometimes arrogant, snobby, and physically aggressive. But he was also intelligent, willing to admit his mistakes, and determined. That made him one of the most normal people he'd met in a long time. Call him crazy, but he liked normalcy in a man. He wouldn't mind getting to know him better. A guy needed more than one friend, after all.

He wondered how many friends Heero had.

He snorted. Who was he kidding? Heero and him hanging out? That would never happen. Why the hell would Heero be interested in that?

Of course, he **was **the one who invited him out for pizza.

But, then he also invited Relena and Trowa.

But, he only invited Trowa because he happened to be there.

But, that doesn't explain away Relena. They had come in her car, after all.

So, they were close friends, likely more. Why did that bother him? Wasn't he just thinking that a person needed more than one friend?

That didn't make him feel any less like ripping Relena's head off, though.

"What the hell is wrong with me?!" he groaned just as the door to the men's room swung open. He froze and did his best to breathe silently.

"Duo? Are you in here?" Heero's voice called quietly. He resisted the urge to curse. Great. Just great. Perfect timing.

Heero's steps echoed as he crossed the tile floor. "I know you haven't left yet because Trowa is still out there. I don't know why you're hiding, but would you please come out?"

Sure. Okay. He'd do that, just because he said, "please." Right.

"Duo?" Now he sounded uncertain. Duo listened as he walked to the end of the row of stalls, even his footsteps seeming hesitant. Mental sirens blaring in his head, Duo pulled his feet in closer and wished there was someway to gracefully handle this predicament.

"Duo," Heero said exasperatedly. "I understand if you don't want to talk to me, but could you at least let me apologize to you and not a urinal?"

He hadn't noticed it earlier, but the back of the stall door had some actual graffiti on it. No, wait. It was just the natural grain of the wood. Never mind.

Belatedly he noticed that Heero had begun systematically peering under every stall door. He'd take two steps, pause. Take two steps, pause. It was only a matter of time before he was discovered in all his glory. He could only hope that the angle would prevent Heero from seeing his feet.

Step, step, pause. A pair of beat-up loafers stopped in front of the stall. He watched Heero's shadow slowly transform into a round blob as the boy crouched down and attempted to peer through the narrow space between the floor and the bottom of the door. He held his breath as Heero slowly straightened back up. He'd survived… only to nearly die of a heart attack as Heero pounded on the door.

"I know you're in there, Duo. I can see your shoelaces hanging down."

Dammit all to hell. Why didn't he learn to keep them tied? Why why why?

"Duo!" More banging ensued. "Come out!"

There was just no way to settle this and still look cool. "Fine, fine," he snapped. "I'm coming." Praying that his deadened feet would support him, he attempted to stand. So far so good. Feeling reasonably steady, he unlocked the door and allowed it to swing open. "Congratulations," he glared, leaning against the side of the stall and crossing his arms. "Behind door number five is a disgruntled punk ready to kick your ass. What will you do now?"

"Apologize for the way my idiotic friend treated you and offer a consolation prize?" Heero gave a lop-sided grin that seemed as natural to him as modesty did to Britney Spears. "I'm not sure what she said to you, but I want to --"

"She claimed to be your girlfriend and accused me of being attracted to you. Stupid bitch," he said before he could stop himself. Because tattling was what all the cool kids did. He mentally congratulated him. Great job, Duo. Way to alienated and generally piss off a guy! Insult his possible girlfriend's integrity and then curse her out. Smoooooth.

"Well, are you?" Heero asked point blank, crossing his own arms and looking quite serious, seemingly not bothered at all by his treatment of Relena.

"Hell, no!" he blurted without thinking. _Liar_, a little voice in his head chided. So he was a liar. So what? Like he cared.

Aw, shit. He did care. Crap. "I mean, um…" he amended lamely. "Well, you see…"

Heero raised an eyebrow, distracting him momentarily. How did people **do **that? Oh, wait. He could do that.

Now was the perfect time for a change of subject. "What about Relena? Is she or isn't she your girlfriend?" he demanded, doing his best to look intimidating, which, considering he was about two feet from a toilet, was no mean feat.

"Despite her mental delusions, we are not and never have been dating. Unless you count that day in sixth grade," he mused, "when she told people I was her beaux. I agreed, thinking she meant 'bo' and that she was complimenting my fighting abilities. When I went home that night and bragged to Maria, she told me what a beaux really was. I wasn't happy." He chuckled self-derisively.

"And who is Maria?" Duo asked thickly, hunching into his sweatshirt. Christ, could this get any worse? Now he was having their history rubbed in his face.

"Oh, she's our housekeeper. She's great. You'd like her," Heero grinned briefly, then looked intensely earnest once more. "Say, do you want to come home and meet her? She's a great cook. Makes that pizza we didn't eat look like cardboard. And I've got a bunch of video games and movies. We could, you know, hang out or something."

"And Trowa?" he managed somehow, unable to think. How the fuck was this happening?

Heero sighed covertly. "He can come, too, if he'd like."

He should say no. Common sense told him that much. There was no reason for him to forgive this guy again. He should punch his face in and cut his losses. Refuse to see him. Request a new tutor. Anything but meekly say, "Yeah, sure. Whatever. Anything's better than this shit-hole." He straightened up, circulation restored once more to his feet, and gestured to the door. "Well, let's go."

Heero's eyes did some strange wide-glowy thing, then he turned and started briskly towards the door.

"This Maria had better be one hell of a good cook," he gruffly informed Heero as they entered the dining room. "Otherwise I might be displeased."

"Is that why you're so often… detained?" Heero returned. "You're busy punishing mediocre chefs for the horrors they've inflicted on mankind?"

"You'll just have to wait and find out." As they passed their table, he gestured for Trowa to follow them out. The taller boy rose, almost hitting a waiter as he pushed back his chair. He looked down his nose at the man, plainly unapologetic, then followed them out.

"I can deal with that," Heero quietly stated, sounding as if he was talking to himself. "Waiting is no problem at all."

-end part viii-


	10. Chapter Ten

It lives!11ONE1 Sorry about the long delay. Things were quite interesting for awhile. I'm certain you all understand; you have lives, too. I do apologize, though, for the delay. Here's to finishing this sucker this time around! Oh, and thank you for all those who have reviewed in my absence.

**Disclaimer**: Not mine.

**Control Freak part IX**

Heero suspected it was a fortunate twist of fate that his car was currently parked a healthy five miles away. Perhaps he was being a bit condescending, but he wanted Duo to at least reach his house before being scared off by the flaming over abundance that he was half-ashamed to call his life. Besides, although Trowa had repeatedly shown just how readily he could adapt to changing environments, he doubted the quirky boy would willing submit to riding in the trunk of his miniscule excuse for a car.

"Do you mind if we walk?" he asked, glancing over his shoulder at the two boys behind him. He had enough cash for a cab, if necessary, but was reluctant to call for one. Duo still seemed to be somewhat agitated and he wanted to give him a chance to simmer down before he met Maria. Or rather, before Maria deemed him an excessively angsty brat and lectured him for all eternity on the virtues of a positive mindset. Not that he'd had any experience with that. His face involuntarily ticked at the thought.

Trowa gave an apathetic shrug and jerked a thumb towards Duo. "It's up to Cranky McCrankerson over here."

Duo mumbled a few choice terms under his breath. "Sure. Fine. Just let me tie my shoes." He immediately stopped in his tracks and knelt down, paying no mind to the fact that he was smack dab in the center of the lobby. His abrupt halt nearly caused another patron to collide with him; the elderly man muttered angrily as he stalked away. Duo appeared utterly unaware of the mishap and finished tying his shoes in contented oblivion. He rose gracefully to his feet and started towards the exit, only to be pulled to a stop by Trowa. The two friends stared at each other for a few wordless seconds before Duo heaved a melodramatic sigh and nodded heavily. He might have been seeing things, but Heero thought he caught the hint of a smile on Trowa's face. He decided he must have been mistaken when Trowa suddenly slapped Duo so hard on the back that he staggered a few steps forward, barely keeping his balance.

"Am I correct in assuming that you're ready to go?" Heero interjected quickly, privately wondering if he was in the company of two seriously crackbrained snapperheads. Their behavior could only be described as abnormal; to call it unorthodox was almost a compliment.

"Let us depart post haste," Trowa grandiosely announced, striding confidently away from Duo, whose glare seemed more deranged than Michael Jackson on a good day. Heero followed Trowa out the door, just managing to catch it as the taller boy allowed it to swing shut on his face. Barely blinking in response, he made certain to hold the door long enough for Duo to get a grip on it.

"I live that way," he informed them, gesturing vaguely to the north. "It's only about a mile and a half. There are a couple of hills, though."

"S'fine," Duo grunted and began plodding down the street, shoulders slouched and hands tucked into the front pocket of his ever-present hoodie. "Later, Tro."

"Later." Heero watched in mild surprise as Trowa proceeded to turn the opposite way down the street, moving with a rolling gait, his thumbs tucked under his belt. He decided against shouting a farewell at the rapidly retreating back and darted to catch up with Duo. His shoes drummed quietly down the sidewalk.

"Does he do that often?" he questioned, drawing up alongside the other boy and slowing to match his steps.

"Leave abruptly? Yeah. But, he did tell me he was going." Duo squinted in the bright sunlight and chewed seemingly unconsciously on his fingernails. He gave no indication that he was interested in pursuing the topic further.

"Oh," Heero said. How was he supposed to reply to such a closed statement? He gave Duo what he knew to his most attractive smile, hoping it would break the ice a little. "Do you mind? That you're left alone with me, I mean." He continued grinning just in case it helped, even though his lips were beginning to feel rather dry. He licked them surreptitiously before turning up the smile full force.

Duo broke step for a moment before continuing at a slightly faster pace. "Mind what? Your implication that I find being alone with you threatening and/or possibly less than endurable, thus implying that I am incapable of defending myself or maintaining a civil conversation? Or that my pal trusts my self-preservation skills enough to leave me alone with someone he personally believes to be as dangerous as a narcoleptic cab driver during rush hour?"

And they were back to this. Heero wondered if progress was always such a backstabbing bitch.

"You read too much into things," he frowned, staring down at the cracked sidewalk. He'd be damned if he was going to apologize for trying to make simple conversation, no matter how failed his attempt. Internally he sighed. Perhaps if he'd attended Miss Plinkley's School of Social Graces he could have handled this situation with somewhat more refinement. Somehow he didn't think the tradeoff would be worth it.

He almost wished Trowa had remained. Although the lanky boy was a bit of an antagonist himself and certainly harbored no fondness for Heero, at least he was adept at deterring Duo's ample ramblings. On the other hand, the two roommates had been so mentally attuned, he'd almost felt as though he was intruding just standing next to them.

Intruding… Now there was a thought. Was he intruding? Was he attempting to willfully force his way into Duo's life? He didn't think so, but he'd been wrong before. Once. Okay, two… five… two hundred thirty-seven times. Not that he was keeping count. But, in any case, he never erred when it really mattered, and this time it certainly did. A person could never have too many friends… especially when they really didn't have _any_. Except Quatre, of course. And to be fair, he should count Relena, but she was more of a habit than a friend… a bad habit, at that. One that he should break expeditiously, or at least cut down on, before she latched onto him like some sort of parasitic freak. The last thing he needed was a human tumor permanently attached to his back. He had enough problems to deal with without having to explain ruffles growing out of his spine.

"Hey!" Heero looked up, jarred from the happy little bout with self-pity that he had been wallowing in. He realized that Duo had stopped walking a few feet back and was waiting impatiently for him to notice. His loafers scuffed against the cement as he turned to face the other, who seemed remarkably absorbed in biting his nails. He wondered what he was going to be accused of _this_ time. Angsting too loudly? Then he took note of the other's body language, recognizing that they both seemed to be equally uncomfortable and uncertain in one other's presence.

"I'm not" The flustered boy cut himself off and shifted his weight awkwardly. Heero waited tolerantly, although his eyes were unfalteringly fixed on Duo's scowling countenance. "It's just…" he tried again, tugging on the sleeves of his hoodie. "Usually…"

Heero decided to put him out of his misery. "Usually people take you at face value and storm off when you blatantly insult them and don't stick around like idiots waiting for more?"

Duo looked away. "Something like that." He stared at the ground for a few seconds, thinking deeply, and then snapped his head up to stare at Heero, glare firmly affixed in place. "Why are we even doing this, anyway?"

"Doing this?" he repeated blankly.

Duo threw his hands up in response. "Hanging around like we're trying to be friends or something. Why bother? School's over in two weeks anyway. Hell, we don't even have to meet again. The essay's done. Your obligation is fulfilled."

"My obligation is fulfilled?" he echoed, beginning to feel as repetitive as HBO.

"Yeah!" Duo warmed to his subject. "I don't know about you, but this relationship just ain't doing nothing for me. You think I'm aggravating as hell; I don't particularly care for you—"

Well, that was a rather blunt way of expressing it, not to mention inaccurate. If there was one thing that irked his gourd, it was inaccuracy. Since when hadn't he liked Duo? Well, recently, anyway. More importantly, why did Duo dislike _him_? Insults and kicks to the head aside, he was doing his best to be friendly, dammit!

"—and it seems that all we do is provoke one another. I don't know about you, but I don't feel like playing Abbott to your Costello. Actually, now that I think about it, this is a little creepy. I hardly know you and here you are inviting me to your house. What's up with that?"

"It's what friends do," Heero replied steadily.

Duo snorted. "I just got done saying that is exactly what we aren't. Hence why the situation seems so bizarre? Jesus Crap. Get a clue, Yuy. I bug the hell out of you and you fully reciprocate the emotion. We. Are. Not. Friends."

"Duo," Heero broke into the rather insulting diatribe. "Shut up and walk."

Shut up he did, caught open-mouthed and gaping. His mouth snapped closed and he quirked an eyebrow, appearing to be at a loss for words. Then, finally: "Aye, aye, Captain!" he replied mockingly, shooting off a pseudo-salute involving only one finger. "Lead the way, sir."

Heero wasn't sure what he was getting himself into, but he would be damned if he would quit before finding out.

"…and _this_ is how pizza _should_ taste," Heero said with satisfaction, gesturing with the slice he held in his hand. He, Duo, and Maria were currently clustered around the island in the center of his kitchen, various pizza ingredients and kitchen supplies scattered around them. A piping hot pie sat steaming in the midst of the organized chaos, two pieces having already been cut out.

Heero had been pleasantly surprised with how smoothly the remainder of the afternoon passed. The rest of the walk had proven to be uneventful, if a bit quiet and, much to his relief, Duo's reaction to his house had been a simple shrug. "It's okay, if you're into that whole my-home-looks-like-a-bank thing," he'd commented. Maria had immediately taken a liking to him (Heero was somehow not shocked) and had been more than happy to help them out in the kitchen. Some of the tension had even abated between them, although Duo had been rather quiet, leaving most of the talking to Maria and him, and making only the occasional comment.

"I've got to admit, this sure puts Ellio's to shame," Duo admitted, his second slice already half gone.

"Young man, _Pizza Hut_ puts Ellio's to shame," Maria chided, lightly smacking his head with an oven mitt. "Now you boys eat up and don't worry about the mess; I'll take care of it later. The two of you are skinny enough as it is. I don't want you burning anymore calories than you have to."

Heero refrained from rolling his eyes. "I don't think we'll vanish from existence if we wipe off the counter."

"No, but the counter might," Maria returned. "I've seen the way you clean, you vagrant! The last time you helped me dust, you broke half of the study."

"A lamp hardly constitutes half the study," he defended himself between bites of pizza.

"It does according to your mother! 'O woe, o death! That lamp was a family heirloom!' Funny, I could have sworn she had bought it at an auction the week before!"

Heero grinned. "Remember when I scratched the chair that 'came over on the Mayflower'?"

"It still had the Ethan Allen sales tag taped under the seat!" They both burst out laughing. Heero turned to Duo, intending to include him in the conversation, only to find him slouching on his barstool, head down and arms crossed. He elbowed him gently in the side and earned a scowl for his efforts. Still, it lacked its normal vehemence and he grinned in response.

"My mother," he explained, "is somewhat lacking in common sense."

"She's a fool, is what she is," Maria chuckled before finally calming. Turning to Duo, she smiled sympathetically. "Sorry to leave you out of the loop, there, kiddo. Here. Have another piece of pizza."

"No, I've gotta get going," Duo refused, shaking his head. He used his napkin to wipe his hands one last time and slid off the stool. "Thanks, though."

"Oh," Maria blinked at the abrupt announcement, a bit taken aback. Heero completely understood her sentiments. "Well, we've enjoyed having you. Come back, you hear? Next time I'll teach you how chocolate chip cookies are supposed to be made."

"Thanks," Duo smiled shyly. "I'd like that." He turned to Heero and nodded. "I'll see you around. You know where to find me."

Heero felt tension he hadn't even realized was there go out of his shoulders. He quickly stood, moving towards the drawer where his father kept the spare car keys. "Do you need a lift?" he offered. "It's already getting dark out."

Duo looked out the window and considered. "Nah. I'll be fine. Besides, I need to work off some of your cooking." He threw Maria a smirk. She shook a spatula in response, pretending offense.

"Okay. I'll see you out, then. I'll be right back to help clean up, Maria." Heero led the way out of the kitchen and down the hallway, heading to the foyer. He paused when he saw his father's golf bag leaning against the wall by the front door. When had _he_ gotten home? Wasn't he supposed to be in Japan? His eyes widened as he read the monograms burnt into the leather bag. They weren't his father's.

"Something wrong?" Duo asked. He realized he had stopped in the middle of the doorway, effectively barricading the other boy in the hall. He moved a few steps forward, eyes locked on the traitorous golf bag.

"I hope not," Heero mumbled, rather inarticulately. But, after all, even Maria thought his mother was a fool.

"Eh?"

"Nevermind." He shook his head. "Thanks for coming over. Feel free to drop by anytime. Except"

"Except on Tuesdays and Thursdays. Right. I know." Duo finished his sentence.

Heero dredged up a smile. "So you do listen."

"It's selective hearing, but it gets the job done. Anywho, I'll see you around. G'nite." He headed out the door, pulling his hood up over his hair. "Oh," he paused, shooting a meaningful glance at the golf bag, "if you need to talk about anything, feel free to call my number. It's in the phonebook. I'm sure you of all people will have no problems finding it." He walked out into the dimness of the evening, pulling the door closed behind him.

Heero watched through the window as the porch lamp clicked on, the sensor detecting Duo's motions. The light glowed forebodingly, casting odd, twisted shadows across the two cars parked in the driveway. One was his mother's. The other he didn't recognize.

Heero didn't move until all was dark again.

**-end part IX-**


	11. Chapter Eleven

Thank you to everyone for reviewing AND for not giving up on me! I may be slow, but I promise to eventually finish.

**Disclaimer**: Don't own or profit. (From now on I'm just typing "DOOP.")

**Warnings**: The usual cussing, but nothing too bad this time around.

* * *

**CONTROL FREAK X**

It was a beautiful spring day. The sun was shining from behind a few lazily drifting clouds. The impeccably manicured lawn was sparkling with dew fresh from the sprinklers. The roses were perfectly pruned, the tablecloths at the outdoor café all perfectly straight, and the nets all hung perfectly evenly on the tennis courts. A small group of attractive, well-toned young men milled around a newly repaved track, all engaged in various stretches. It was a scene straight out of a magazine and Heero would have given anything not to have been in it. He inwardly sulked even as he half-heartedly did a few lunges. It was far too early to be thinking, let alone exercising.

A weak toot of a whistle brought a muscular man clad entirely in white to the boys' attention. He clapped his hands sharply and hollered.

"Alright, you lackluster excuses for civilized chaps; it's time to warm up. Get moving!"

Heero reluctantly began jogging around the track as his tennis instructor shouted pseudo-insulting remarks at his students. He felt as if he was moving in slow motion. Normally he welcomed the chance to run off the frustrations of the day. Today, however, he would have happily parked his rear on the bench and festered for the lesson's duration. He was in a simply lovely mood and forced physical activity just wasn't how he wanted to spend his Saturday morning.

He hadn't even wanted to take tennis lessons to begin with. They were, like darn near everything else in his life, his parents' idea. He'd only complied because they'd threatened to take away his kick-boxing classes if he hadn't. Or rather, his mother had, claiming that all respectable young men could play tennis.

Like she was one to talk about respectability.

"You're rather glum today," Quatre noted, jogging steadily alongside him. That was the sole perk to the lessons; it guaranteed him a couple of hours a week with his friend, who suffered from a similar overdose of familial involvement. In his case, however, it stemmed from his myriad older sisters rather than meddling parents. Heero was fairly sure that he would have gone insane long ago if he were in Quatre's position, but his friend seemed to take it all in stride. The blonde was almost scarily well-adjusted.

Heero snorted. His bad mood would have been blatantly obvious to a half-blind dingo, never mind his empathetic friend. "It's nothing major, Quatre," he assured the blonde. "Just a little trouble at home. As usual," he added in an undertone.

"I thought your mother pretty much ignored you when your father was away," Quatre pried, not realizing he was.

"Not always," Heero said shortly, decided he'd rather not explain the situation. After all, he couldn't be positive he wasn't mistaken and he didn't want to needlessly slander his mother. Maybe they were… going over tax forms or maybe… his mother had needed advice about what anniversary present to buy for his father.

Or maybe he was completely deluding himself.

"Oh," came the response. Then, after a pause, "Well, you know you're always welcome at my house. My sisters just love you and I'm fairly certain that we're on your mother's list of socially acceptable friends."

Heero snorted again. "You damn near ARE the list." He jogged a few more steps before adding, "But, thanks, Quatre."

"No problem," he smiled. "I know you'd do the same for me."

Heero laughed as best he could while running. It came out sounding rather hiccupy. "And we both know I'll never need to."

"Less talking, more running, gentlemen! Stop acting like you're at a country club!" the instructor bellowed, interrupting their rare moment of male bonding.

"We ARE at a country club," Heero mumbled, but he stopped talking anyway. Sometimes breaking the rules did nothing but leave you short of breath.

* * *

Duo sniffled. Stupid freezer with its stupid carcasses with their stupid temperature requirements. Why did they have to freeze them, anyway? People ate unrefridgerated meat for meat for thousands of years and it never killed anyone! Well, okay, it DID, but that wasn't his point. His point was that HE was currently being killed by REFRIDGERATED meat. Okay, maybe he wasn't DYING, but if people could be killed by spoiled beef then surely someone somewhere had once died of a cold. They might have been sickly, old and feeble, but still! They had died and that was all that counted. Case closed. 

He sniffled again. He wasn't too sure he was thinking straight, but since he seldom did, he wasn't too concerned. He heaved another carcass onto the processing belt just in time to sneeze.

The day was turning out just peachy.

He wondered what time it was. He'd been unable to find his watch that morning and suspected Trowa had confiscated it for his own use, as he so often did. It wasn't that his roommate needed to know the time; oh, no! He was far too suave for that. Trowa just liked the way it looked. He claimed it made him look more responsible and less like the type of person who would persistently show up late to meetings/appointments/jobs/etc. when that was, naturally, just the type of person he was. Duo had sat waiting outside various restaurants and movie theaters often enough to know that much.

It drove Duo crazy not to know the time, especially when he was at work. He'd be damned if he was going to stay trapped in the meat locker for one minute longer than he absolutely had to. There conveniently weren't any clocks hanging on the walls and if he asked Brawny Man the time too often, he would take his life into his hands. Never anger the man with the axe. That was a personal rule of his.

He trudged back over to the racks of cow flanks. Each row was assigned a letter and, with typical morbid hilarity, he'd given each row a name such that would be appropriate for a milk cow. A was for Annabelle, B was for Bessie, C for Candy, D for Daisy and so on and so forth. He was currently busy transporting Winona over to the processing belt so that her various members could be DISmembered. Oh, but he cracked himself up.

He sneezed again, and wondered if someone was thinking about him. If so, it was probably his boss, wondering why he was taking so long to load up the next hank of beef and possibly plotting his untimely demise. Death by lumberjack. Such would be his luck.

He wondered what normal high school students did on Saturdays. Probably slept. Oh, but it would be good to sleep past seven in the morning for once in his life. It had been years since he'd enjoyed that particular luxury. He knew paperboys who slept later than he did.

He stopped himself before he could angst too much. There was no use in wasting valuable energy making himself miserable. Work provided enough wretchedness without him adding to it. He should devote his mental energy to more positive pursuits, like thinking about nice, soft beds or happy, LIVING cows, or his friends Heero and Trowa.

Trowa. That bastard. He was probably still draped across the couch, becoming one with the cushions, as was his weekend ritual. He claimed he had to keep up with the Saturday morning cartoons, lest he fall out of the loop and not know what Lizzie McGuire was up to. Why Trowa wanted to know was another story, but he did not fathom to comprehend even the shadows of his roommate's logic. There was just no understanding someone whose favorite snack food was Milk Bones.

As for Heero… he was probably lying in a king sized bed with silk sheets while his personal maid hand-fed him caviar from a silver spoon and read him the latest stock quotes or something similarly obnoxious and hoity-toity.

But, that wasn't fair to Heero. The kid was trying his best to detract attention from his financial assets. He was certainly more down to earth than most people he knew, himself possibly included. It was just frustrating. While it was nice that Heero was insisting his money wasn't important, it was also irritating as frick because he was insisting his money wasn't important. If anyone knew the importance of money, it was someone without any and Duo fit into that category pretty nicely.

While he knew exactly why Heero was doing it, and he really appreciated the effort, he wished the other boy could just be honest about it. Yes, he had a lot of money. No, he didn't really care for it. But, did he realize what it could do for him? Did he appreciate it? Did he understand where he would be without it? If so, did he really want to be in that situation? Duo doubted it and from that doubt stemmed his frustration.

He kicked aside a few random chunks of something and stepped around a frozen puddle of… drippings. He could not wait to get home and shower. He just wasn't in the mood to be working. Not that he normally was, but today was even worse than usual. He could blame it on his cold all he wanted, but Duo knew the truth.

He resented having to be at work because he'd finally found someplace he'd rather be.

* * *

Trowa knocked assertively on the cheap plywood door, briefly admiring the way Duo's wristwatch looked as it peeked out from beneath his sleeve. He peered at its face as twenty seconds ticked off and, when the door did not open, he frowned and knocked harder for another eight, exactly. He tried to time it so that he hit the door four times a second at perfectly even intervals. Such things were important. Finally, after he had rapped thirty-two times, he heard a response. 

"Alright, alright! I'm coming!" a voice bellowed from the depths of the apartment.

Wufei sounded rather disgruntled, Trowa noticed. Perhaps his diet was lacking in fiber. He made a mental note to bring over some bran muffins when he got the chance.

"This had better be important!"

The door threw itself open seemingly on its own to reveal a rather miffed Wufei. He had obviously been interrupted during his shower. His hair was loose and dripping rivulets of water down his face and onto his hastily-thrown-on t-shirt. Already the shoulders were soaked.

"Hello, Wufei," Trowa said coolly, moving past him and into the apartment without waiting for permission. "Are you aware that your shirt is on inside out and backwards?"

Wufei sighed and shut the door. "Hello, Trowa. I take it Duo is at work?"

"However did you know?" The lanky boy threw himself down onto his neighbor's plush carpet, nuzzling the soft fibers with his cheek.

Wufei tried to keep his eye from twitching and instead occupied himself with putting his shirt to rights. "You only come over when you need someone to bother and you only need someone to bother when Duo isn't around. Since it's a weekend, logic dictates that he must therefore be at work." He disappeared towards the bathroom.

Trowa rolled into a sitting position, wrapping his arms around his legs and propping his chin on his upraised knees. "My, my. Such masterful wielding of logic. But, tell me, Wufei, can your logic answer the age old question of how many angels can dance on the head of a pin?" Trowa raised his eyebrows intimidatingly, watching intently as the Chinese boy emerged from the bathroom.

"Six," he responded promptly, aggressively toweling his hair.

"And pray tell how you arrived at that conclusion." Trowa rolled backwards, rocking back and forth several times before releasing his knees and lying flat.

"Logically speaking, angels do not exist. Therefore, since we are dealing with fantastical creatures that are outside the bounds of logic, the answer can be whatever I wish. Six is my favorite number and therefore is the answer I choose to give to your question." Wufei draped the towel across his shoulders and sat down on the sofa, taking up a book of crosswords and opening it to a marked page.

"Is that a new book?" Trowa asked quickly, his interest piqued. He quickly came to a proper sitting position, leaning forward intently.

"Yes," Wufei responded, twirling a pencil between his fingers.

"What kind of puzzles are those?"

"New York Times," Wufei said shortly, seemingly already engrossed in the puzzle.

"Can I help?" Trowa crawled forward and rested his elbows on the couch, right next to Wufei's knees.

"If you must."

Trowa rapidly climbed on the couch, craning his neck to read the clues over Wufei's shoulder. "You started without me" he accused.

"I do have a life outside of your visits."

"If you're call doing crosswords a life, you're an even bigger dork than I thought," Trowa taunted. "And sixty-three across is 'sassy.'"

"As if I'd listen to someone whose hobby is memorizing lyrics to defunct television shows."

"The 'Super Chicken' theme song is more than worthy of reintroduction into popular culture," Trowa said calmly. "Six down is 'annex.'"

"You're an annex," Wufei mumbled, but not until he'd filled the clue in.

**End part 10**

**A/N:** No Heero-Duo interaction this time around, but there was a nifty Trowa scene in there. And, hey! Wufei!

I am kind of being mean to Trowa. He's been reduced to a literary device. sobs I am so sorry, Trowa!

Anywho, I hope you enjoyed this chapter. There should be another in the not-at-all-distant future!

P.S. I was wondering if anyone pictured this as happening in any particular city/location. In my head, it's kind of a strange conglomeration of Boston, my hometown, and my college town. What's everyone else thinking?


	12. Chapter Twelve

**Thank you to everyone who reviewed! **I hate to admit it, not wanting to be a slave to ego, but feedback really does make me write faster.

**Disclaimer**: DOOP

**Warnings**: Language

**Control Freak Part XI**

The phone was ringing. He knew he should answer it. Instead he rolled over and burrowed underneath his pillow, blocking out the sunlight sneaking through the curtains.

The phone was still ringing. He _really_ should answer it. It was probably for him. Scratch that; it was definitely for him, Trowa never having received any calls to his knowledge. But, still, it was too early for phone calls and bed was just so enticing. He pulled the covers a little closer and huddled beneath them, stealing a few more glorious moments of respite.

He tried not to listen as the phone rang a few times more. It probably wasn't important. Phone calls were always insignificant… except when they weren't. He reluctantly decided that he really _should_ answer it. If nothing else, it was keeping him from getting a proper day's sleep. He should just start turning the ringer off and be done with it.

Grudgingly, Duo pushed back the covers and forced himself into a sitting position. He stumbled out of bed and out into the hall, heading towards the kitchen. He grabbed the phone off the hook and spoke blearily into it. "Hello?"

He was startled into a semblance of wakefulness by the overly polite voice that rattled tinnily from the receiver. "Hello. This is Heero calling. Is Duo there?"

"Yeah, it's me," he managed, attempting to surreptitiously clear his throat. He'd be damned. Heero had actually bothered to look up his number. He almost felt guilty for thinking he wouldn't. Almost.

"Sorry, I didn't recognize your voice over the phone," Heero apologized, actually sounding a little embarrassed. Duo was willing to bet that he got embarrassed over a lot of things. "You sound really different."

He made a noncommittal sound in response. "I get that a lot." Especially when he had just woken up with the worst head cold this side of a congested elephant.

"Oh." There was an awkward moment of silence. Duo took the opportunity to wipe his running nose on his sleeve. He had to do the laundry soon, anyway, and paper towels were so rough.

"So… what's up, Heero?" he took up the conversational initiative, uncertain whether he did so to put Heero or himself out of his misery. "Anything exciting and titillating happening on your side of town?" he asked as he wandered back down the hall towards the bathroom. There were actual tissues in the bathroom.

His words apparently served as an impetus to remind Heero why he'd called. "Yes, actually. Are you busy today?" he asked enthusiastically. "There's a new action movie out that looks pretty good. Interested in going?"

"I guess so," he said, rifling through the medicine cabinet in search of cough syrup, throat lozenges, Dayquil, or anything else that would restore him to near-human status. He came up with a half-melted cough drop and a bottle of crystallized, red syrup that had expired a year ago. He opened the bottle and attempted to pour out a few drops. The syrup didn't even quiver. Had it really been that long since either of them had been sick?

He realized Heero was talking again. "If you don't want to go, I understand," he was saying and Duo suddenly realized he'd sounded far less than excited about the prospect of spending the afternoon with Heero. "If you're busy you can just say so. I didn't mean to impose."

Well, gosh. The boy was more polite than zebra at a lion convention. He was practically Canadian. "Trust me; you're saving me from an afternoon of boredom," he assured him. "I probably would have wound up watching infomercials or something if you hadn't called. The last thing I need is another set of knives that can saw through pipes."

"You actually fell for their pitch?" Heero asked with more than a trace of humor.

"Nah, they were a present from Trowa's sister, Cathy. Now there's a girl who knows her knives," he said, deliberately leaving the remark open for interpretation. He threw the medicine bottle in the trash and contemplated the odds of salvaging the half-melted cough drop.

"Remind me to mind my manners around her," Heero replied, sounding a bit disconcerted.

Duo began attempting to peel the wrapper off of the lozenge, but the two had formed an indelible bond and all he managed to do was get a wad of gooey sugar under his fingernail. He was less than overjoyed. "Just be careful where you walk. She has a tendency to display her skills on the street," he advised, not really paying attention to what he was saying, so consumed was he by the challenge before him.

"I can imagine."

"Hey, don't worry too much about it. Trowa's usually more than happy to serve as her target." In the epic battle between man and cough drop, cough drop was winning. Frustrated, he turned on the sink's faucet on to hot and stuck the lozenge under the stream of water. He'd melt that sucker out.

"Oh." Heero's voice was remarkably in its flatness. A Keanu Reeves monologue seemed emotionally charged in comparison.

Duo sighed inwardly. There was just no teasing the guy. "I wouldn't worry too much about it, man. She's harmless enough." The water grew hot enough to scald; he jerked his hand back to see that his ploy had indeed removed the drop from its wrapper. However, it had done so by melting the drop almost completely away, leaving him holding only a soggy shred of paper enveloping a tiny, red sliver. Such was the story of his life.

"Why do I get the feeling that you're not telling me the whole truth?"

"Probably because I'm not. But, anyway. When and where do you want to meet?" He threw the wrapper in the trash and dried his hand off on the front of his sweatshirt. Clothing could be so useful.

"Want me to pick you up in an hour?"

"That's so early. Geez, the theater won't even be open yet." He drifted out of the bathroom and across the hall into his room. The call would be over soon and he could catch a few more hours of sleep before meeting Heero. He plopped down on the edge of his bed.

"It's two o'clock, Duo," Heero said, definitely sounding amused this time.

Well. That certainly explained why he was getting calls so "early." He tried to make like he was well aware of the time. "Ha ha. Yeah. Sorry. Brain fart. That's fine by me. I'll meet you out front in an hour. See ya then."

"Good-bye."

Duo disconnected the call and glumly ran his fingers through his rather unwieldy mass of hair. He sighed. At least there was enough time to shower. Now if only he could dredge up a clean towel…

0-0-0-0-0-0

"I see an hour has drastically improved matters. Over the phone you sounded as if you were about six steps away from the grave," Heero greeted him as he pulled open the car door and dropped down into the passenger seat. "Isn't it a bit hot for a sweatshirt?"

"It's never too hot for a sweatshirt," Duo croaked in all his glory. When Heero's expression changed to one of concern, he grinned self-deprecatingly. "Rest assured, it is just a head cold. Should be gone in a couple of days."

"If you say so," Heero shrugged, waiting patiently for Duo to settle into his seat. "I guess it's a good thing I decided to leave the top up."

"Speaking of which, is this thing yours or your father's?" Duo asked, eyeing the leather interior as he fastened his seatbelt.

Heero sighed and fiddled with the climate control settings simply for the sake of occupying his hands. "Mine in ownership, his in taste. It was a birthday present."

"Not what you would have chosen for yourself, I take it?"

"Not at all, although it did come with a neat free gift," Heero grinned, gesturing towards a stainless steel pen clipped to the sun visor in front of him.

Duo laughed hoarsely. "The dealership spared no expense, I see."

"I have it on good authority that that pen is what cinched the deal," Heero said, shifting the car into drive and pulling away from the curb. "Father was showing very little interest in purchasing anything and was about to walk off the lot when, in desperation, the salespeople pulled out their trump card: a secret cache of promotional products."

"And hence won your father's interest and, ultimately, his patronage. Shit. And here I thought the way to a man's heart was through his stomach."

"Ahh, but that's where you're wrong. You can get a meal anywhere, but a pen such as this cannot be bought with money alone."

"The fifty thousand dollar free gift," Duo muttered. "They were right. Rich people are crazy."

"We prefer the term, 'eccentric,'" Heero deadpanned.

"Call yourselves whatever you want. It doesn't change the fact that you make about as much sense as a kangaroo on a pogo stick," he retorted, punctuating the statement with a rather loud sniffle.

"You want to stop somewhere and get some cough drops or something?" the other boy asked, briefly taking his eyes off the road and giving him a quick once over, probably trying to gauge his level of contagiousness.

Thanks to near-Herculean willpower, Duo fought back a spurt uproarious laughter. "I'm afraid cough drops and I don't get along very well."

"I'm guessing there's a story behind that, but I'm rather disinclined to ask what it is. Lord only knows what the answer would be."

"I guarantee it would make more sense than buying a car to get a pen."

"Buying a car to get a pen makes more sense than living your life from underneath a hood."

"What's wrong with that? Plenty of mechanics do it. Don't be jealous just because you have not achieved the level of coolness necessary to pull it off."

"What else is on that level? Pocket protectors and unwashed hair? I need that like I need a kick in the head."

"I still haven't forgotten about that, by the way."

"Forgotten about what?"

"The kick in the head you so generously bestowed upon me. I'm pretty sure you knocked a few screws loose in there."

"I'm pretty sure they were already loose to begin with. There's a pharmacy coming up on the left," Heero said, abruptly breaking the flow of the conversation. "Do you want to stop or not?"

"It would probably be a good idea," Duo reluctantly admitted, sniffling again. "I have this dream, see, that I will at some point be able to breathe through my nose again. Perhaps it's not much of a dream, but at this point it's really all I have to live for."

"If that's all you have to live for, you should maybe look into finding Jesus or something."

"I tried, but I got tired of being 'It.' Figured maybe it was my turn to hide, for once."

Neither boy laughed.

Heero remained quiet as he turned into the pharmacy's parking lot. It wasn't until he'd pulled into a space and turned off the car that he spoke again. "Just so you know, I'm buying."

Duo sniffled prodigiously, fiddling with the release on his seatbelt. He always had problems with those darn things. It was doubtful, however, that mechanical ineptitude was to blame. He could never be so incompetent. It was likely a vast seat buckle conspiracy, of which he was the soul target. Oh, seatbelts. How he abhorred them and their wily ways. After a near epic struggle, he managed to procure his freedom and happily allowed the seatbelt to retract. Only then did he deign to respond to Heero's rather arbitrary comment. "You're buying what?"

Heero had, of course, unbuckled his seatbelt with nary a hitch. He had then undoubtedly witnessed the battle against the evil safety device, since it would have been fairly obvious even to someone with eyesight like a naked mole rat. To his credit, and Duo's surprise, he did not appear at all amused by the struggle. Instead he wore an expression of near dire seriousness, which was, if possible, only heightened by Duo's question. "I'm buying the cough drops. And," he added as an afterthought, "the movie tickets."

Across the parking lot, a car alarm randomly went off, blaring without justification.

"I can buy my own movie ticket, thank you very much," Duo said sharply, abruptly on the defensive. Heero had sounded just a little too patronizing for his tastes. It was amazing how money could catapult him into a mood more horrendous than a McGriddle sandwich. "I might not be rich, but I don't need any goddamn handouts." Especially not from someone whose father bought a _car_ for a _pen_.

"I know you don't," Heero said evenly, unperturbed by his sudden ire, "but I _want_ to buy them."

Recently acquired evidence was indicating that he was just another charity case taking a ride on the Good Ship Heero. The thought stung, a fact he was loathe to admit. So, he did what any person with the preservation skills of a cow would do when confronted with a harsh reality: he made an effort to ignore it.

"If you're on another guilt trip over kicking my sorry behind, get over it," he glared, gathering the shreds of his dignity and binding them together with healthy dosage of self-control. "It's over and done with, you ass-pony. Now let's just forget about your idiotic comment and go buy some friggin' cough drops." He started to open the door, stopping only when Heero grabbed his wrist. He glared and jerked his limb free, but remained in the car.

"It's not about that."

"I thought I said we were done talking about this?" He made a show of rubbing his wrist, despite the fact that it didn't hurt in the least.

"I said, it's not about that," Heero reiterated, sounding rather… intense. Duo begrudged him a searching look and found him looking affronted. He allowed himself to relax minutely. If he was that upset, there was a chance that he had been incorrect in his estimation. He silently admitted that he may have jumped to conclusions over Heero's motivation. He blamed it on his cold. One could not possibly think straight when one was forced to breathe through one's mouth like a carp or scrod or something.

On second thought, any fish that were scrod weren't really doing too much breathing anymore. But, he digressed. "If it's not about that, then to what do I owe this sudden outburst of benevolence?" he asked once he had achieved mental coherence once again.

"You're my friend," Heero said simply. "What good is money if I can't use it to help a friend?"

It was amazing how three words were all it took to reduce him to a complete bastard.

Bastard. _n_. A person, especially one who is held to be mean or disagreeable. Similes include heel, idiot, nitwit, cur, lowlife, knave, brute, creep, sleazeball, miscreant, SOB, snot bucket, and all other manner of unflattering terms that most definitely applied to him.

Duo deflated, his self-righteousness abandoning him as a rat would a sinking ship. "How do you do that?" he muttered.

"Do what?" Heero had managed to catch both his abrupt change of mood and his sub audible words, contemplating him intently.

He did his best to avoid Heero's piercing stare, slouching deeper into his sweatshirt. "Do something that should by all rights make you a complete jerk, but winds up making you look like the goddamn pinnacle of human goodliness."

"I guess my level of coolness is just that high," he said lightly.

"Stop it," he demanded exasperatedly, smacking a hand to his forehead in a demonstration of clichéd annoyance.

"Stop what?" Heero echoed.

"Repeating me, for one thing," Duo fumed. "Speaking, for another. Every time you open your mouth you demonstrate your status as the shining beacon of humanity, however marred it is by your blaring egotism. It's nauseating! How am I supposed to function normally when I've got Tiny fucking Tim sitting next to me? I feel like my entire worth as a person is being usurped by the near-perfection you've cultivated, a perfection apparently achieved completely unconsciously and by accident!"

"Duo," Heero said, interrupting his diatribe against perceived flawlessness, "shut up."

"Excuse me?" he gaped, after having adopted an appropriately pole axed expression.

"Shut up," he repeated. "We're wasting time we should be using to buy cough drops." Heero smiled winningly and Duo felt any further objections he might have uttered shrivel into oblivion. Sensing he had won, Heero opened his door and climbed out of the car. Duo sat limply in his seat as Heero patiently stood waiting in the oppressive warmth, waiting for him to likewise emerge.

"Cough drops," he said weakly. "The story of my life." Then he, too, abandoned the coolness of the car for the heat of the world outside.

**-End part 11-**

A/N: (shrugs) Cough drops make for good symbolism.

This should wrap up the Issues With Money aspect of their relationship. Thank God.

The movie scene will be in the next chapter. This section turned out a lot longer than expected..


	13. Chapter Thirteen

Thank you to everyone who reviewed. Sorry it took so long; I've been sick for the past 6 weeks. Anywho…

Happy Birthday, I.C.! It's early, even. Kind of.

**Disclaimer: DOOP**

**Warnings: Retardation.**

**Control Freak XI**

To call the cinematic experience sub par would be akin to calling Hitler mildly disturbed. Heero wasn't sure quite what was to blame for the massive amount of suckage he was currently enduring. Perhaps it was the fidgeting children seated in front of him. Maybe it was Duo's incessant sniffling right beside his ear. It might have been the piece of popcorn he had lodged between his teeth. Most likely, however, the movie itself was to blame.

Its directors having apparently decided that gratuitous explosions more than made up for a lack of actual plot, the movie had henceforth shown its protagonists engaged in myriad adventures that were connected only by virtue of being in the same film. How two people could go from sipping martinis at a cocktail party to riding motorcycles across Los Angeles rooftops to robbing a casino to defusing a bomb in the Statue of Liberty to delivering a premature baby with nothing but a bottle of Poland Spring was beyond him. It was like watching an episode of "Gumby." Things just sort of… happened. Heero wondered if the Blockheads would be making a cameo appearance at some point.

Oh, wait. They already had. They were cleverly disguised as the main characters. Right.

The movie aside, the other distractions were more than obnoxious enough to be gifted his everlasting hatred. He desperately wanted to reach forward, grab the loathsome children by their scrawny, little necks and shove their faces into the nice movie seat upholstery. Maybe a near death experience involving petrified gum would straighten out their undisciplined behinds.

As for Duo, Heero knew he should have insisted on getting REAL cold medicine instead of cough drops that were ninety-nine percent sugar and hence about as potent as watered down kool aid. Besides which, cough drops, to the best of his knowledge, did precisely nothing for nasal congestion and very little for sore throats. Yet when he had pointed that out back at the pharmacy, Duo had stalwartly refused to drop the package, claiming stronger medicines made him woozy. Heero had pressed the issue and they had compromised by picking up a pocket sized package of tissues. Even in the dim theater lighting Heero could see they were nearly gone.

He would be damned if he could figure out how Duo had gotten a cold at that time of year, anyway. Unless it was really a bad case of allergies, in which case the cough drops were going to be doubly ineffectual.

Well, at least he could do something about the popcorn. "I'll be right back," he whispered to Duo. The other boy flapped a hand at him, eyes riveted to the screen. Apparently someone was enjoying the movie. Shaking his head, he rose and carefully picked his way through the darkness, headed for the exit and ultimately the men's room.

He took perhaps more time than was warranted to remove the offending piece of kernel from between his teeth, needing a moment to get his head together. It always amazed him how quickly the atmosphere at the theater could utterly annihilate whatever good spirits he'd been enjoying. His mood would plummet faster than Gary Coleman's career. He was sure it was due to some deficiency on his own part, but stoically watching several hours' worth of badly enacted scenes torturously edited to resemble some kind of epileptic seizure was not what he'd consider a character building exercise. It wasn't even what he'd consider sane. And so he stood in the bathroom rather longer than necessary and wished whatever god had inspired him to suggest this outing would smite him dead, or at least send a nice power outage his way.

By the time he returned to the theater, the film had decided it wasn't a member of the action-adventure genre after all. Rather, it was a complicated romance that just happened to have flying body parts and crew members throwing buckets of blood around the set. Heero sat down just in time to see the main male character stagger across the screen clutching his stomach, his bumbling sidekick faithfully trailing after him.

"You look like you got gut-kicked. What's the matter? You sick?" the sidekick asked in a voice flatter than Calista Flockhart's chest.

"He--- Helen. Helen—it's Helen. It's Helen, Gib," the hero sputtered out, his eyes darting around in search of the cue cards that were surely just off-screen.

"Something to do with Helen is what I'm getting," Gib brilliantly deducted.

"She's having an affair," the hero ground out, looking about as shell-shocked as a Ninja Turtle with a concussion. 1

Heero was pretty sure there was more dialogue after that, but he was just going to have to miss out on the movie magic because he was too busy trying not to punch a hole through something. Something preferably insentient. He didn't have the patience right now to aim for a moving target. The gods of anger were demand a sacrificial offering and woe be unto he that stood between him and his fist's target.

He became aware that he was displaying rather visible signs of enragement and had, in fact, shot out of his seat, when Duo leaned across the armrest and touchingly inquired after his well-being.

"Look, dude, I don't know what the hell's wrong with you, but if you're going to flip out, don't do it here. You'll scare the kids, man," he whispered nasally. His hood was still up and, in the fluctuating glow of the film, it cast ominous shadows across his face. Heero watched the light flicker over his profile for a moment, glaring harshly.

"I'm not going to flip out," he denied severely, dropping back into his seat.

"That's not what your fists're telling me," Duo returned hoarsely, nudging Heero's hand where it was propped on the armrest.

He was not surprised to find that his fists were clenched so tightly that the knuckles were white and the tendons clearly visible beneath the skin. Annoyed as much by his own lack of self-control as by Duo's insistences, he jerked his hands into his lap and forced them to relax. "I'm fine," he stated in a tone that, for normal people, brooked no argument.

He had forgotten, unfortunately, that there was not one thing about Duo that would commonly be deemed normal. He almost seemed to cultivate an aura of abnormality, a habit that would normally instill respect, but at the moment did nothing more than abrade his already eroded patience.

"I can hear your teeth grinding over the movie," Duo pigheadedly pursued, frowning beneath his hood without the least sign of trepidation.

"I'm fine. I can deal with it," Heero bit out, having to remind himself that his patellas were, in fact, located beneath his epidermis and no amount of squeezing was going to convince them otherwise.

"Well, why don't you go deal with it elsewhere," Duo insisted. "People are starting to stare."

Heero looked up to find that people were indeed shooting more than casual looks in their direction. Many were blatantly ogling, having obviously decided that he provided a far better means of entertainment than "Cradle of Lies" or "True Grave" or whatever the heck movie they were supposed to be watching instead of him. He aimed his Death Glare into their general vicinity before turning back to his companion.

"They wouldn't be staring if you hadn't opened your fat mouth," he said flatly, glaring daggers or Death Stars or H bombs or whatever else caused massive amounts of destruction.

"Think what you want, asshole," Duo shrugged exasperatedly. "Let's just get the fuck out of here before they **make** us leave." He jerked his chin in the direction of the aisle.

Now that it had been brought to his attention, Heero belatedly noticed several ushers poised to leap upon them. Abruptly ashamed of himself, he took a calming breath and stood. "Stay here," he instructed Duo. "I'll be back."

"I sure as hell ain't following you," Duo snorted, leaning back into his seat and burying his hands in his pockets.

"I'll be back," he repeated. Then he left once more for the men's room because, well, it had been a whole five minutes since his last visit and he so missed the smell of disinfectant and urinal cakes.

Heero allowed the bathroom door to slam shut and went to stand in front of the sinks, leaning up against the counter with his back to the mirrors. With a slight frown on his face and his eyes focused dully on the stalls across from him, he gave off every appearance of impatiently waiting for someone to emerge, which, of course, he wasn't, especially since he was the only one in the bathroom.

Taking a shaking breath, he allowed his head to fall backwards. He knew if he rolled his eyes all the way up, he could just catch a glimpse of himself in the mirrors. He didn't make the attempt.

"God, I'm such a jerk," he admitted to himself, the words ringing hollow in the starkness of the lavatory.

"I would have used the term aggravated asshole, but that's just me."

Heero snapped his head to the side to see Duo quietly slipping through the door, easing it closed behind him.

"I thought I told you not to follow me," he glared, shoving himself off the counter.

Duo shrugged. "Figured the end of the movie wasn't worth seeing, anyway," he smirked. "Besides, it's not like I paid for the ticket or anything."

Heero sighed. "I'm sorry about… back there," he said, gesturing vaguely in the direction of the theater.

"No worries," the younger boy replied nonchalantly. "We all have our days. Heck, I seem to have nothing **but**."

"Life's a kick in the head, huh?" Heero said, startling a laugh out of the other. "Seriously, though, I'm sorry. I don't know what's wrong with me. I just got so angry…"

"Things at home aren't so good, huh, Heero?" Duo said quietly.

His heart stopped for a second; he was sure of it. "Why do you think that?" he asked carefully.

Duo propped himself against the wall, a pose Heero thought awfully casual for someone who was on the fast track to disembowelment. "I noticed there were certain… aspects of the movie that bothered you."

"What gave you that impression?"

Duo rolled his eyes. "Are you kidding? Every time it was even insinuated that the wife was having an affair you got so tensed up you made a mummy look languid."

Heero turned to face the mirrors, relentlessly staring into his own eyes. "I have no idea what you're talking about."

"Fine. Have it your way," Duo shoved off the wall and meandered his way towards the exit. "Ignoring it isn't going to change anything, though. What'll happen when next time you really **can't** control yourself?"

The eyes didn't blink, just stared back dispassionately. "That won't become an issue."

Duo paused, his hand already on the door handle. "You can't say that for sure, Heero. If there's one thing I've learned in life, it's that guarantees mean shit."

"Duo?" The word was terse, near dripping with serpentine tocsin, a veritable quagmire of peril. He prepared himself to revel in the glory of his soon-to-be-won solitude, certain the unnerving complexity of his tone had aptly secured his place in their little hierarchy of two.

It would have, had the other not completely failed to register the overtones. "Yeah?" came the egregiously casual reply.

The eyes finally blinked, allowing him a brief interlude from the surreal nature of the situation. "I just wanted you to know that I am trying very hard not to hit you right now," he grit out.

Duo laughed. "Thanks and all for a swell time, Heero, but I think I'll cut our little _tete a tete_ short and find my own way home. I promise not to cry too hard if you never call me again. Nothing personal. You just have a few too many issues for this simple guy to handle."

"Go to hell," Heero snarled, but the door was already swinging closed. He sighed heavily, but there was no one but the urinals to hear.

**-end part whatever this is-**

1 The previous four lines were all taken directly from the script of "True Lies," which was used without permission and, needless to say, does not belong to me.

Cookies to whoever can guess the other movie referenced and parodied here.

A/N: This is only half of the chapter. The other half will follow shortly, and by shortly I do mean within the next two weeks, not within the next two _months_. Part II will contain major plot advancement, which is probably why it is so hard to get written. But get written it will… right after I move.


	14. Chapter 14

**Thank you for all of your reviews! It is very appreciated. **

**Warnings: **cursing, UNBETA-ED, adult situations, shounen ai.

**Chapter XI, part ii**

Twenty minutes later found Heero sitting in his car strangling the life out of the steering wheel, doing his best to ignore the impending sense of disaster that was permeating the air. He had arrived home five minutes ago, five minutes made longer by the fact that he was hard-pressed to find a parking spot in the driveway that evening.

It should not have been an issue. There should only have been two cars, his and his mother's. Instead there were four, neither of which should be there, but both of which were. What had happened, he wondered, when the driver of car four –back oh-so-early from his business trip- had discovered the presence of car three's driver, whose sense of propriety was obviously as weak as his sense of subterfuge, he having parked smack dab in the center of the driveway?

A led to B. B led to C. A + C led to D, with d, of course, standing for disaster and possibly divorce. A, B, and C stood for the type of words that, when uttered, would cinch his enrollment at Miss Plinkley's School of Learning to Pretend to be Nice or some similar such institution. He had the feeling, however, that if he went inside he would end up spewing all three words in a rather loud tone of voice along with a few other choice phrases, all of which would make Baby Jesus cry.

So he stayed in his car, melding his hands into the leather of the steering wheel and trying to look as if he was perfectly content, that he was enjoying sitting outside in the cool air and refreshing breeze. He wasn't reluctant to go inside; no, he was enjoying the song on the radio and wanted to hear it through to the end. Never mind that he had the CD. Never mind that he was anything but content. Never mind that the night was going to end with a call to both an ambulance and a lawyer –one the fault of his father, the other of his mother.

He wondered which one of them they blamed _him_ on.

o-o-o

He didn't know how long he sat in the car before there was finally movement from the house. He watched indifferently as the front door swung open, the rectangle of light a flickering parody of warmth. Two silhouettes appeared; the larger threw the smaller off the front steps and onto the lawn, where he was transformed into an undignified shadow of a man by the soft glow of the garden lights. A third figure appeared and ran down the steps, crouching next to the fallen man.

It seemed, then, that D had indeed stood for divorce. Heero had little choice but to listen as his parents proceeded to initiate the separation a scant hundred feet away. His car windows did little to muffle their voices.

"I don't know why I ever thought I loved you!" Mrs. Yuy shrieked at her soon-to-be-ex-husband.

"You never loved me," he replied coldly. "You loved what **you** were when we were together. I just wish I had known what you were like when we were apart."

"Fuck you!" she screamed back, the darkness doing nothing to hide the flush of her face.

"Good-bye, dear," Mr. Yuy mockingly said. "I'm certain that you'll sleep well with your new bed partner. After all, I was 'never around' and he is so very obviously here. So **very** obviously there with you," he stated pointedly, "that he is no longer with me in any sense of the word."

"You're firing me?" the man gasped, shooting to his feet in shock. "I'm the best engineer you have! I **made** you!"

"No," Mr. Yuy said firmly. "My **son** made me. Who better to fill the job vacancy I abruptly find myself with? See how easily you, too can be replaced?"

"You can't fire me for personal reasons!" the engineer protested vehemently. Mrs. Yuy stood by his side, staring with hatred at her husband.

"Watch me," Mr. Yuy said. Then he turned and entered the house, shutting the door firmly behind him. Mrs. Yuy and her lover remained dejectedly on the lawn, staring at each other with varying degrees of disbelief.

The engineer, apparently the optimistic type, tried to lighten the situation. "At least now we can stop hiding our relationship," he offered weakly.

Mrs. Yuy gave no response, standing motionless until he tried to take her into his arms. Then she started back and glared with rage. "Don't fucking touch me, you bastard! This is all your fault! I told you not tonight! I told you, but you couldn't keep it in your pants long enough to listen!"

"Darling, I'm sorr-"

"Don't say it. Just don't. Let's just get the hell out of here. This place suddenly makes me sick."

Belatedly Heero realized that they were headed right for him. For a moment he had desperate ideas of hiding himself from sight, but in his tiny car there was nowhere to go and if he got out they would surely spot him. He was trapped. It was only a matter of time before he was spotted.

"Heero!" His mother had already honed in on his presence. "HEEEEROOO!" she hollered as she strode rapidly towards him, the engineer in tow. Accommodatingly, Heero rolled down his windows.

"How long have you been here?" she asked briskly. He noted there was no sign of tears on her face.

"Not long, really," he lied. "I just wanted to wait for this song to finish before I came in." He gestured pointlessly to the radio. It was playing a commercial.

Luckily his mother was not one to be bothered with details. She ignored his words and barreled on. "I suppose you're wondering about the little exhibition on the lawn just now. Your father has decided that he wants a divorce and is kicking me out of the house. I want you to come with me."

Now there was a fine idea if he ever heard one.

"Mother-" Heero thought to object, but was interrupted before he could proceed very far. His mother, apparently, was not done speaking.

"I'll not have you stay alone with that boorish, arrogant, violent son-of-a-bitch," she fumed. "I would fear for your safety. You must come with me."

"Father would never hurt me, mother. You know that," Heero said flatly.

"So I thought, too, but look what he did to me tonight!" She held up her wrist for inspection. A **very** close inspection revealed a ring of bruises that was beginning to darken.

"To be fair, darling, you did jump at him with a knife," the engineer muttered. His words instantly raised him in Heero's estimation… though not very far.

"You stay out of this!" Mrs. Yuy hissed. "Come, Heero. Come with Mama. It's only right, after all, that a child should stay with its mother. Fathers make very unsatisfactory guardians."

"I'm eighteen, Mother. I'm a legal adult," Heero protested. Was she only interested in taking him so she could finagle child support from his father?

"Come on, baby. You know I love you a million times more than he ever could," she wheedled.

Her lover shifted uncomfortably behind her. "We really should get going," he said quietly, "before he reports us as trespassers to the police."

"I really don't think-" Heero started, still seated firmly in his car.

"Goddamnit!" Mrs Yuy swore. "Your father has stolen everything I have tonight. I'll not let him steal my child, too!"

"Perhaps he did, Mother," Heero said bluntly, "but you were the one who handed him the key to the safe."

Her face became ugly. "I'll not have my child speak to me with such disrespect!"

"I'm sorry," he apologized sincerely. "I was rude. But, I-"

This time it was his father who interrupted him. Mr. Yuy suddenly appeared next to his mother at his window, anger written plainly on his face.

"Get away from my son, woman," he said cruelly. "Your presence here has become more than superfluous and far less than welcome. Heero and I have no time for the likes of you. We have to discuss his new job as chief engineer at the company. Come, Heero. Come inside so we might speak of your future."

"He's just as much my son as yours!" Mrs. Yuy ground out.

"Is he as much your son as I was your husband?"

"You should talk! You're as good of a father as you are CEO. Everyone knows you're just an empty-minded, overpaid figurehead!"

"You never seemed to mind my paycheck before. Oh, and by the way, best of luck buying a Chanel wardrobe on **his** current salary." Mr. Yuy gestured towards his former employee. The man shriveled under his gaze.

"Oh, I imagine we'll do just fine once we start receiving your alimony payments. Together with the child support you'll owe me for Heero and we'll be just fine," she responded haughtily.

"You seem to have forgotten that cheaters receive no alimony. As for Heero, what makes you think he's going to go live with you?"

"He's as much as told me so! Isn't that so, baby?"

"Actually, mother-"

"He's agreed to no such thing. He's going to stay here with me and be my new chief engineer. Right, buddy boy?"

"Actually, dad-"

"Only an idiot would do that! Babies belong with their mommies. He comes with me."

Heero sat and watched as his parents bickered back and forth about who he wanted to go with. It was blatantly obvious that his opinion was gratuitous and unwanted. He wondered; when did his parents stop thinking of him as their child and instead as a commodity to be bartered around?

Broken trust, hatred, betrayal. The air was full of it. He felt it pressing on him from all sides, his surroundings seeming to exude near palpable auras.

His parents. Control, self-absorption, arrogance.

The engineer. Fear, dejection, hatred.

Himself. Confusion, frustration, anger.

He could not remain in such a place.

He started the engine, ignoring the startled exclamations of his parents. Putting the car in reverse, he backed down the driveway and into the street, then sped off blindly into the night. It didn't matter where he went; he belonged wherever he was. He was no one's but his own.

But he wanted to be.

o-o-o

Duo closed his eyes and dropped the textbook he was attempting to read onto his lap. He'd arrived home from work half an hour ago and, though he would normally fall straight into bed, had been taken with an inexplicable urge to actually do his homework for once. He'd chalked it down to Heero's bad influence and hunted down his history text, determined to work his way through the assigned reading. Trowa had thankfully disappeared to wherever Trowa disappeared to and he had the apartment blessedly to himself. It had seemed that he would actually be able to concentrate for once.

He had not counted on the book being so involved. Usually he found that details made for interesting reading, but this time they were about government. Good Lord, details were **never** good when they were about government. He almost supported anarchy, merely because their rules were the simplest to remember: there hardly were any.

Duo had struggled his way through a third of the chapter before his head started hurting, reminding him that it was never a good idea to read small text after what amounted to a 16 hour work day. Pushing the book onto the floor, he toppled over on the sofa, stretching out and intending to sleep right there. Mustering enough concentration to at least turn the lamp off, he nestled into the cushions in the blessed darkness and sighed contentedly.

Whoever would have thought that fifteen year old couches with broken springs could be so ungodly comfortable.

He was on the verge of sleep when someone began banging loudly on the door, jostling him back to awareness.

"Dammit, Trowa!" he grunted. "This is the third time this week!" He rolled off the couch and stalked over to the door, throwing the deadbolt and unfastening the security chain.

"Friggin' asshole," he said loudly. "I told you not to forget your key!"

Duo threw open the door, ready to throw Trowa a right-hook (he would easily dodge it anyway) and eager to get back to bed. He was not prepared for what he found instead.

"Heero?" He didn't gasp –people as manly as he never gasped; they inhaled air sharply. "What are you doing here?" Then, as the shock wore off: "I told you I don't want to see your ugly mug anymore. Go the fuck home! It's two in the morning, you asshole. You woke me the hell up!"

He tried to swing the door shut, but Heero caught it and forced it back open with disconcerting strength.

"I can't," Heero spoke brokenly, in a voice oddly flat and devoid of emotion. "Go home, I mean. At least not yet. It would be… difficult. I left. I drove off. I drove for hours. I thought. About love, lust, friendship, belonging. I thought about where I belonged. I thought for a long time. I think I found an answer. I wasn't sure it was right. I tried to talk myself out of it. But I kept coming back to it. I think it's the right answer. I think I found it."

"Well, yippy skippy for you. I should care why?" Duo glared, jerking the door back and forth determinedly, trying to dislodge Heero's hand.

"Because," Heero said, his eyes strangely ablaze, "the answer was you."

Then he kissed Duo very soundly on the lips.

**-end part whoozamawhatits-**


	15. Chapter 15

Holy thundermuffins. I am absolutely overwhelmed by the sheer number of reviews for the last chapter. Actually, stunned might be a better word for it. All I can say is this: THANK YOU. I will give this story my best!

Warnings: shounen ai, slight cursing

**Control Freak Part XIII?**

Duo stood utterly still beneath Heero's lips, his posture akin to that of a Buckingham Palace guard and his face just as emotionless. He shifted infinitesimally as Heero moved back a step, his shoulders twitching beneath the older boy's hands. He didn't blink as Heero began spewing off a convoluted and mangled monologue that attempted to explain his actions, but did nothing so much as antagonize the English language and Duo's ears, He floundered futilely in pursuit of reason, spouting words and making gestures that Duo wouldn't know how to respond to even under normal circumstances, trying to illicit a reaction that would end god knows where, but surely someplace better than where they stood, somewhere between hilarity and hysteria. He asked Duo questions and issued challenges and spun explanations and made declarations and Duo stood stoically through the onslaught, not out of apathy, but out of ignorance of the territory. And when Heero's galumphing words finally bumbled to an end and he dropped his arms to his sides, releasing Duo from his grasp, his hands falling lifeless to his sides even as his shoulders heaved with emotion, still he remained frozen and unresponsive, caught within a self-imposed exile of bewildered disconnection.

Heero had kissed him.

He allowed the silence to stretch on to putrefying lengths, his hand involuntarily latching claw-like around the doorknob he had insanely never lost hold of.

"Duo?" Heero said suddenly, looking unbalanced and distressed, staring not at him, but at his hand, his white-knuckled caricature of calm. "Are you mad?" he asked inanely, posing a question that he knew the answer to, could _see_ the answer to, and yet had asked anyway, thus denying Duo the dignity of at least making that pronouncement on his own.

That, that final intrusion and degradation, _that_ he knew how to respond to.

He smiled his sweetest smile, the one that made teachers run for cover and challengers abruptly revoke their complaints. Heero smiled tentatively back, not knowing him well enough to understand that this particular expression forecast very undesirably consequences.

Heero had kissed him and he didn't even understand the simplest things about him, the things that common thugs on the street knew intrinsically.

It didn't matter to Duo that he had, in an off-handed, purely scientific sort of way, imagined this, not a kiss per say, but a deeper, closer relationship. He had let the possibility of it cross his mind on more than one occasion, had calculated the odds of its ever happening, had taken bets out with himself and would, if he hadn't drowned his romantic inclinations in a bottle of Jack several years earlier, have even daydreamed about it. But his suppositions and extrapolations now didn't matter in the least because Heero had taken matters into his own hands, had done this of his own accord, had forced his will upon him, had turned things into something that was not about them, not about compromise, not even about equality, but rather desperation and fear and selfishness. Heero had acted at a time when Duo wasn't even sure he wanted to be _friends_ with him any longer, let alone something more. He had acted, Duo thought, as he had indeed throughout the course of their acquaintanceship; namely, without deference to anyone's feelings but his own.

Duo redoubled his saccharine smile, consciously loosening his grip on the doorknob. The longer he smiled, the more relaxed Heero became until, finally, his shoulders lost their tension and his face became less pinched and his eyes grew less desperate. It was then, in that exact moment when he began to believe that things were okay, that he hadn't just made a cataclysmic mistake, that he was free and clear and forgiven and even welcomed, it was in that moment that Duo slammed the door on his face.

Systematically and precisely, he secured all five locks and then, without any more ado than turning out the lamp, he went to bed.

On the other side of the door, Heero remained gratifyingly silent.

x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x

Trowa stood with his ear pressed to the door, although the pose was more for effect than functionality. The proceedings in the hallway were more than loud enough to be heard through the cheap plywood, could, in fact, have probably been heard through solid steel and concrete. Nonetheless, he adopted the stereotypical eavesdropper's stance and would stubbornly remain in it as long as it was obvious that there was cause –and probably even when there wasn't.

Wufei slouched bonelessly on his couch, disgruntled and with eyes more than a little bleary. He wore boxer shorts and nothing else, yet sweated even in the chill air of his apartment. He was musing lazily about which annoyance plagued him more at the moment: the heat or having been torn out of a comfortable sleep to listen to a private discussion between two obviously irrational adolescents. He couldn't decide on an answer. The plucky air conditioner was chugging determinedly away at the window, wafting heroic quantities of coldness, and he watched as Trowa shivered convulsively, dimly realizing that it was not for dramatic effect. He wondered who's internal thermometer needed recalibration and suspected it was his own.

The noise outside petered to a halt and all was silent for a few sublime moments. Wufei sighed in relief and leaned forward on the couch, anticipating his return to bed.

"Are you satisfied now, Trowa?" he asked a bit petulantly. "Can I go to sleep now?"

But Trowa didn't move and Wufei sat back on the couch with an exhalation of air that was half yawn, half harrumph. It seemed that things had progressed to a quieter plane of existence. How titillating. Wufei's interest was not at all piqued and he was starting to doze off when the needlessly loud slamming of a door jerked him back into awareness.

"I guess that's his final answer," he muttered, not without satisfaction. He hadn't liked Heero from the start. It would be better for Duo if he avoided all contact with rich boys; they made for bumpy roads.

It was quiet again and he began drifting off in spite of himself, fantasizing a bit about roads with speed bumps made of rich boys.

It was a subtler noise that brought him to wakefulness the second time, a noise he did not often hear: the sound of Trowa moving with uncertainty. Jarred and a bit concerned, he opened his eyes and watched as the lanky young man crossed the room and sagged down next to him, looking at him with sad eyes.

"I don't know what you expected," Wufei offered half-heartedly, knowing his words weren't going to make a lick of difference, but willing to try anyway.

Trowa stared at him impassively.

"I thought it actually went rather well," he continued with a stifled yawn. "No one broke anything. Not yet, anyway."

Trowa didn't respond, all his attention now focused on the door. "It's been twenty minutes and he hasn't left," he said musingly. "He's still out there." He paused. "We should let him in."

"Why?" Wufei asked begrudgingly.

"He's lonely. He's hurting. He's sad. He needs a little kindness right now."

"We're strangers, Tro," he pointed out. "I'm sure he has plenty of other people to turn to."

"Then why is he still _here_?" Trowa said earnestly and Wufei knew all hope of sleep was lost. "He's here, so we should let him in."

This was somewhat nebulous logic in Wufei's point of view, but there was no arguing with Trowa, never had been and never would be. Still, for propriety's sake he made the token effort. "I fail to see why," he muttered grumpily. "If even Duo doesn't find him fit company, I know I certainly won't."

But Trowa had already opened the door and was attempting to coax an obviously distraught Heero inside. Wufei allowed himself one heavy sigh and then dragged himself to his feet, heading to the bedroom to put on a shirt of some sort. Propriety and all.

By the time he'd donned the loosest, most threadbare and thereby coolest top in his possession and returned to the living room, Trowa had ensconced Heero on the couch, fetched a round of sodas and made a bucket of popcorn. He was currently engaged with tearing open a package of M&M's which he would then, Wufei knew from long experience, pour into the liberally salted popcorn to make what he deemed a delectable snack and what Wufei deemed unfit for human consumption: Trowa added enough salt to kill an army of slugs.

As he passed the coffee table, he snagged one of the sodas, nodded in acknowledgement of Heero's presence, and continued on to the kitchen. Once there he exchanged the can for a bottle of water. He returned to the living room, placed the water where Heero could easily reach it, sat down in the armchair, and pointedly ignored Trowa's offering of the newly mixed M&popcorn.

"So, Heero," he said cordially, or at least as cordially as Wufei could be at three o'clock in the morning on an ungodly hot summer's night. "How was your evening?"

Heero, somewhat surprisingly, laughed. "Oh, just splendid," he sputtered. "Life couldn't be better!"

"If you're expecting sympathy, you're not going to get it," Trowa said coldly and abruptly, looking at him with hard eyes. "I didn't ask you in because I like you, you know, or even because I care what happens to you. I asked you in because I felt sorry for you, the same way I would feel sorry for a dog that had gotten lost or a cat that was hit by a car."

His words conquered up visions of rich kid speed bumps and Wufei had to stifle an over-tired chuckle.

"You feel sorry for me," Heero repeated. It was unclear whether or not it was meant as a question and as such Trowa reacted appropriately.

"Did I say that?" he innocently replied, stuffing a handful of popcorn into his mouth. He subsequently emitted a muffled crunching sound and a distinctly satisfied expression spread across his face.

"I thought you hated me." Heero shifted uncomfortably on the couch, the type of movement one might make if a cushion were maladjusted or if one was voluntarily slipping his head into the noose.

"Hate is such a strong word," Trowa mumbled around a gooey wad of... stuff. Wufei tactfully averted his eyes.

"So, what? You strongly dislike me?"

"More like begrudge you every breath of air you take," Trowa cheerfully responded, digging into the bowl once more. The heat of the popcorn had caused the candy to melt slightly and rainbow colors dotted his fingertips. Wufei would have to make sure he washed his hands before touching anything.

"I really don't understand where this is going," Heero said, beginning to sound a smidge angry. Wufei could commiserate; so far as he could tell this discussion was nothing more than a sadistic exercise in torture on Trowa's part.

"Trowa, do you have a point to all this?" Wufei sighed, more for his own sake than for Heero's.

"Of course I do! We're going to tell a round robin story! Everyone loves stories!" Trowa proclaimed brightly and out of the blue. "I'll start! Once upon a time-"

"Trowa, please. It's too late for this," Wufei objected, annoyed.

"ONCE UPON A TIME," Trowa repeated, shooting Wufei a truly evil look, "there was a little boy with very wonderful parents and they were all very happy. But the parents soon died a horrible death and left the boy all alone. No one wanted him, but the boy went to live with his aunt and uncle. The aunt was stingy and the uncle was neglectful and the boy was very unhappy. So he ran away and they didn't even try to find him." He stopped abruptly. "Wufei, your turn!"

"He isn't going to like this, you know. I don't like it, either. This is his business and it's not our place to be-"

"Please," Trowa said quietly and Wufei sighed.

"The boy ran for a long time. He didn't know that his aunt and uncle weren't searching for him and he was afraid of being caught. He ran as far and long as he could and learned a great deal about life in the process. Eventually he came to a small city, a very diverse place with lots of different people, from many different places and with many different backgrounds. There he finally stopped, for he could run no longer. And there he found some friends, who took him in and gave him a home and came to care a _great_ deal about him. They did their best to watch out for him and gave him all they could. And the boy worked very hard to repay his friends for what they had done for him even though they insisted it was unnecessary. Then one day the boy came home with a cracked skull and a new friend."

He stopped. "I believe it is Heero's turn now. Is that correct, Trowa?"

Trowa nodded and picked some popcorn from his teeth.

Heero was staring at them, an expression of trepidation and bewilderment on his face. "What about the aunt and uncle?"

"That isn't how the story goes," Trowa chided, pointing an orange, blue and green finger in accusation.

Heero cleared his throat. "Uh. Okay. I had become Duo's tutor-"

"We're not talking about _Duo_," Trowa said long-sufferingly. "We're telling a _story_. In the third person, I might add."

If possible, Heero looked even more confused, but valiantly struggled onwards anyway. "The friend had never met anyone like Duo, uh, the boy, and he was confused by him. The boy was not what he had expected. He was somehow… different from everyone around him. At first the friend thought this was a negative trait, but soon he grew to respect it."

As he spoke Heero grew more enthusiastic to the task, possibly forgetting who he was talking to or perhaps throwing caution to the wind. Wufei suspected he was a bit worked-up and had lost his normal compunction. Certainly Duo had never described him as being verbose.

"The friend had never met anyone who was so volatile and yet so irrevocably likeable," Heero continued. "The boy's appearance completely belied who he really was and the friend was captivated. He was also angry. He had never met someone he didn't understand before. He didn't quite know what to do. He wanted to spend more time with the boy, to get to know him better and figure out who he was. Despite himself, he was drawn to the boy and he didn't know why. He had to find out.

"Yet things always seemed to go wrong. The two seemed to clash cataclysmically every time they were together. But they both kept trying and even when it became apparent that things between them weren't working out, they kept trying anyway. Then things started to go well and they both were happy. Then things turned bad just as quickly and they both were sad… at least the friend was. They had an argument and it seemed that that would be the end.

"Angry, the friend returned home and there he received some very bad news. He became very upset. He wasn't thinking clearly. He went to the boy's house and did something very… impetuous, yet very honest. And this made the friend happy, because he had finally figured out why the boy was so fascinating, but it also made the boy very angry. And that made the friend confused because he thought the boy would be happy. The friend tried to explain what he felt, but the boy wouldn't listen. The friend was then right back where he'd started: angry, confused, and alone."

Heero snatched a can of soda off the table and popped it open with a vicious gesture. He chugged down its contents and crushed the can with one hand. Unimpressed, Trowa surreptitiously wiped his fingers on the couch cushion and Wufei pretended not to notice.

"So, what happens next?" he asked Trowa, resisting the urge to remove the can from Heero's grasp before he sliced himself open, thus adding an emergency room trip to their smorgasbord o fun.

The slender boy shrugged. "The boy's friends had a feast and indulged their cannibalistic tendencies?"

"I don't think that's a viable option."

"Okay, then. The boy's friends laughed at the idiocy of others and went to bed safe in the knowledge that their friend's virtue was most definitely not in danger?"

"I liked the part about going to bed."

"What do you mean, the idiocy of others?" Heero interjected sharply, his eyes more than a little wild.

Wufei smiled serenely, confident in the knowledge that he kept a baseball bat in the closet not five feet away. "I mean, oh learned one, that an idiot who doesn't even know he's an idiot is the biggest fool of them all."

"Okey-doke, Heero. Time to go!" Trowa announced at the tail end of that scintillating statement, standing and attempting to pull Heero along with him.

"But why am I an idiot?" Heero insisted, doing his best to resist, but being drawn inexorably towards the door anyway.

"Can he really be this stupid?" Wufei asked in disgust.

"Looks like it," Trowa replied cheerfully.

"Make sure you lock the door," Wufei instructed. "Use the dead bolt."

"Most assuredly," Trowa agreed.

"But why am I an idiot?" Heero demanded, leaning heavily against the door in an effort to hold it ajar.

"The answer, grasshopper, is blowing in the wind," Trowa said sagely. Then he, too, slammed the door in Heero's face.

After all, there was something about Heero that made doing so immensely enjoyable.

**-end part viii?-**


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